


Endure

by venividivici



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Teacher-Student Relationship, ziall
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-08
Updated: 2014-09-15
Packaged: 2018-01-03 23:18:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 140,748
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1074223
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/venividivici/pseuds/venividivici
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>"But really. Thank you, though," Niall murmured.</i>
  <br/>
  <i>"For?" Zayn asked.</i>
  <br/>
  <i>"For fucking me like that. I admit I asked for it, so," he shrugged, "yeah, thanks."</i>
  <br/>
  <i>"It was my pleasure, love," Zayn nodded. Niall laughed at his remark, at how literal he meant it.</i>
  <br/>
  <i>"I love you," he responded wiping his mouth with his hand.</i>
  <br/>
  <i>"I love you, too. And thank you, though."</i>
  <br/>
  <i>"For what?"<i></i></i>
  <br/>
  <i>"For everything else."<i></i></i>
</p><p>AU where Niall's a student and Zayn's a professor and life can get really shitty</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Zayn looked at his watch, counting the remaining minutes till the end of class. "All right, class. You can put your stuff away."

"But, Professor. There's still forty-five minutes before the period ends," Liam said, clearly bothered by the fact he only did approximately fifteen minutes amount of work instead of the usual hour.

"Yes, but it's nothing new. And I don't want to start the new lesson with half the class gone." Zayn sat back in his chair, pushing his feet against the ground till he spun as the class either left or conversed with the one next to them. Niall sometimes questioned how did he get a degree in the first place.

"I'm going to see Zayn," he said to his best friend Louis, already swinging his bookbag over his shoulder.

"Of course you're going to see your _boyfriend_ ," Louis muttered, staring at his desk.

"Don't act like you aren't going to go see your boyfriend, either."

"Mr. Styles isn't my boyfriend. We are simply, compatible fuck buddies," he lied. Because no one was supposed to know of their relationship and that seemed like a reasonable thing to say among the proximity of the remaining associates.

"Fuck buddies who've been living together for the past three months."

Louis sat up in his chair, glancing around the room before fixing on Niall. "Can you be quiet, please? We really shouldn't be talking about this in public."

Niall shrugged. "Right," he agreed before walking up to Zayn's desk where he was attending another student at the moment.

Niall idly went through the drawers behind the desk, shifting pens around or arranging a stack of papers. To the oblivious eye, it seemed like he was intruding Professor Malik's personal space. Or like it was too personal and the fact that Zayn wasn't objecting (because he'd simply lean back in his chair or move out of Niall's way as he rummaged around) made it even more so. But they didn't care. If they couldn't scream their love to the top of the world, they'd settle for anything under.

"It took you long enough," Zayn muttered as the student left, shifting his chair to face Niall while he was looking for his paper amongst the pile. With Zayn's legs spread apart, Niall was almost standing in between them.

"I was only a minute or two later than usual," the younger boy laughed, still looking for his paper.

"A minute or two too long," Malik replied endearingly, nudging the toe of his sneaker against Niall's ankle who finally looked at Zayn. And it was breathtaking.

The view. The way Zayn looked up at Niall. The way his eyes gleamed a bit brighter and his irises held more color. The way his face flared with warmth and affection. The way the dark facial hair surrounding his mouth and the sides of his face complimented his jawline and cheekbones. The way his smile curled on one side as he controlled it from stretching into a full blown beam. He didn't want it to show on his face; it'd reveal too much. And it was saved privately for Niall only. It blew Niall's breath away.

"How was football practice, baby?" he whispered, still nudging his sneaker against the pale ankle. They often whispered in public. Or gave each other looks that held a meaning during class. Sometimes even daring to brush hands as they walked pass each other, Niall distributing paper while Zayn walking towards a student with their hand raised. These sentiments were soft, private, intimate. And they craved as much intimacy as they could possibly grasp.

"Practice was fine," he softly replied, sitting in a chair and bringing it as close to Zayn without barely touching him. "Louis got in trouble so Coach spent a majority of the time lecturing us."

Zayn laughed with a roll of his eyes. "What did he do now?"

"Not sure, actually. Who gives a fuck."

"Manners," he scolded before continuing. "Harry needs to teach him a lesson, innit?" Niall opened the drawer of unperishable snacks Zayn specifically had for him, opening a bag of juice-filled gummies.

"Fuck yeh. If you persuade him enough do you think he'll do it? Like he can fuck Louis good enough to be placid or down right obedient because I really want to win the championship and we haven't been training a lot lately," he mumbled around a mouthful of candy.

"What did I tell you about manners?" he said leaning close to Niall, his voice dropping an octave and sounding sketchy.

He swallowed the candy and ran his tongue across his top lip, smearing some of the residued flavor. "Are you going to teach _me_ a lesson?" he provoked, watching Zayn's pupils dilate and his adam's apple bobbed. Niall bit his lower lip, never looking away. "You know I'd just love a--"

Zayn quickly kicked Niall's shin as he moved to tuck his legs beneath the desk, facing the classroom as Perrie walked towards them.

"--good report on my essay, Professor. I, uh, worked _really hard_ on it," Niall finished while getting up from his chair.

"Of course, Horan. I'll look to it as _quickly_ as possible," he replied with a smile before addressing the girl in front of him.

As Niall slung his bookbag back on his shoulder, no intentions on leaving the room but allowing Perrie to talk quasi privately with Zayn, he walked along the length of the board in the back of the class.

Zayn hung pieces of art along it, meant to lure students in to ask questions about them. He'd always answer hyperbolically, emphasizing the smallest detailed line or bringing awareness to a subliminal message within a piece. Sometimes a student would point to the painting at the end, a painting seeming obscene compared to the others, and would ask with disgust, "what's that?"

Professor Malik would look at it, feigning surprise towards the student's curiosity before answering, "this one is Niall's," running a delicate finger over the punctured planes where Niall must've pressed down too hard.

"Who?"

"Niall Horan."

"Oh, I know him. Great guitarist."

"Don't forget a football star," Zayn would brag, still brushing against the ragged lines and dents on the thin canvas while thinking, _my football star_.

"Why is his...that doing here?" they'd continue.

"Well, he handpicked my pieces that are on display here. I thought I'd add him to it." Niall constantly changed Zayn's paintings. Switching them with sketches or others depicting nature scenery. But Zayn never let him touch the one at the end. He never brought it down. And if the student gave him a perplexed look before exiting, well, what did that matter?

Perrie continued to speak. She was complaning about an unnecessary mark on an assignment and was asking--no, _begging_ \--Professor Malik if he could raise it up. Her voice was high-pitched, practically needy, and she'd bite her lip, making sure her eyes were wide and she twirled a lock of hair between her fingers before running a hand down the crevice of her chest, locking a grip on her book to press it against her to make her breasts strain against the shirt buttoned too low. The offer behind her words was so evident and poorly hidden that Niall couldn't help but chuckle lightly, biting his lip to stop from laughing out loud.

_He likes dick!_ he wanted to scream. _He likes my dick!_ At some point, Zayn sighed and took off his glasses before staring at Perrie.

"I'm sorry, Ms. Edwards, but if you are asking what I _believe_ you're asking, I have to decline. I'm in a committed relationship I have no intention on ruining. But if you really need help on this assignment, I'd gladly help you, academically. But that's it." 

Perrie didn't know what to say. She stuttered repeatedly and Niall couldn't help it. He broke out into chortles and tried to make it seem like he was laughing at one of the paintings.

"Mr. Horan, is there anything comical?" Zayn asked, having a clear idea what he found amusing.

"I'm sorry, Professor. This picture just looks fucking hilarious."

Zayn groaned before turning back to Perrie. "Is there anything I can do for you?"

"I'm sorry, sir. Please, forget that ever happened."

     "Your wish is granted. Think nothing of it, Perrie," he smiled, seeming so genuine and forgiving. And it was a wonder how half the university wasn't piling into the room, all asking Zayn for _extra credit_.

Perrie's throat hitched and her cheeks began to pink. "She's one lucky girl," she finally breathed.

"Yes, he is a lucky bloke. But I'm the most fortunate one." He went back to fixing his desk, getting ready to leave for the day.

"Oh. Bloke. I didn't know you were gay, Professor Malik. Forgive me."

He shook his head at her. "Not gay, Edwards. I'm not fond of labeling myself. I'm simply a man in love with another man."

 

 

"Do you have any idea how cute you were back there?" Niall said, kissing Zayn's cheek and neck as he drove.

"So I'm not always cute, huh," he responded, stopping at a red light. Zayn leaned back in his seat and faced Niall, a smile tugging at his lips. Niall took this opportunity to lean down and firm his mouth against his, only pulling back when the car behind them honked.

"Ugh, the nerve of some people. Can't a guy kiss his boyfriend?"

"Patience, my dear," Zayn scolded while grabbing Niall's hand and placing it on his thigh.

"My dear? You've been spending too much time with Louis, haven't you?"

"Well it's not my fault. Harry brings him over whenever he stops by which has been quite often. You're at the gym or in the music department around that time. Or practicing. You wouldn't notice."

"Hm."

"Does that bother you?"

"No, not at all." Niall nuzzled his face into Zayn's shoulder, breathing in his scent. "Can we go home?" he asked him, muffled by the cloth against his mouth.

"You don't want drive thru?"

"Oh my God, when I said I was hungry earlier, I didn't mean _actual_ food, dummy."

"Who's the one with the degree?"

"I still question how you got one. And seriously, who gets a degree in _Art_?"

Stopping at the red light, Zayn leaned away in shock, the movement having Niall's face fall from his shoulder. "How dare you say that. How very _dare_ you. It's because of my nuisance of a degree that the bills are paid, you know."

Niall groaned as he sat back in his seat, planning to have Zayn on the edge, on his edge, precisely. "You and your talk of degrees, old man."

"Old man?" he laughed turning to Niall. Zayn spiraled down a narrow street, the tires screeching against the pavement and Niall holding onto the dashboard by reflex, trying to get his point across.

"Okay," he laughed, sitting back in his seat and putting his foot on the dashboard. "Old man with a few tricks."

Zayn's eyebrows shot up as he shook with laughter, fully facing Niall. "Still an old man?" he nodded.

Niall nodded in response. "Seriously, baby. When we fuck, you kind of been..." he shrugged, biting his lower lip as if he was apologizing for Zayn's behavior in bed, though he couldn't have been more false. He just loved provoking him; the result rewarded them both.

"I've been kind of what?" he asked, not sure to believe the young boy or not.

Niall sighed, seeming deflated to break the faux news to his boyfriend. "Well, you know. Just. Tired. And old," he whispered.

Zayn stared intently out the windshield. "Oh." He didn't say anything else. Niall squirmed in his seat at Zayn's uncommon silence.

"But we can work on it, right, baby? You still have a youth bone in you, don't you?"

"Uh huh." And shit, he looked pissed off and Niall didn't even admit to himself that the stern look on Zayn's face was a bit intimidating. Niall didn't reply and just gazed out the window, hoping it worked in his favor; but he had a feeling it didn't and was mentally cursing himself until Zayn spoke up.

"Well, I'm still getting drive thru. What about you?"

"The usual, please," he squeaked because the realization that his trick failed crushed him and he was only playing (though he wouldn't admit it) and at this rate he wasn't going to have sex with Zayn at all and that was a fucking bummer because who wouldn't want to get fucked by Zayn?

They stopped by the drive thru, the only dialogue from now to when they arrived home was Zayn and the cashier's conversation. And Niall was so nervous because it was supposed to be a joke and he stabbed Zayn's confidence and that was a penalty all alone on its own chart and he wanted to punish himself by not touching Zayn for a week or maybe not completing the song he was currently working on; he couldn't handle either.

As they parked in front of their flat, he laid a tentative hand on the inside of Zayn's elbow. "Baby, about that, it was just--"

"Niall, would you get my bag from the trunk?" he interrupted, not waiting for an answer as he closed the door, the bag of food swaying on his arm and the house keys in his other hand. He sighed, getting out the car and cursing Odin for not helping him out as he retrieved Zayn's bag holding assignments and pastels and all the other shit Art Education majors carried with them.

Zayn was already in the house, probably getting his cuisine out the bag so he could eat in his office by himself. Niall whimpered to himself because he couldn't handle awkward situations and what was he supposed to do now. As he closed the door and locked the complex code, he thought of bribing Zayn with a blowjob when he was pushed against the door, the side of his face flat against the hard surface. "An old man, huh?" Zayn breathed from behind him, his hands firming Niall's thin hips to the door frame.

An exhale of air left Niall. "Zayn, it was a joke. I swear to god." Zayn chuckled, his hot breath settling on Niall's neck as his nose skimmed the vein trailing up his throat.

"Oh, I had a feeling you were. But you didn't say anything." Niall squirmed further into the wall when Zayn's fingernails scratched up the skin of his back under the shirt.

"I should have, right? Fuck, I'm stupid" he laughed, tension jumping on each chortle.

Niall was still wearing loose shorts from practice, and Zayn's erection was pressed in the crease of his arse. He was able to control the muscles in his dick, making it flick and jump between the cheeks. His face was still in Niall's neck, and he made his dick jump slightly farther in as he bit down on the exposed skin. Niall's eyes fluttered closed as he moaned Zayn's name and sparks of pleasure emitted from both his neck and bum.

"Yeah, you should have," he agreed lowly, his mouth coming up to his boyfriend's ear. One hand was still under his shirt, pressing hard against the soft skin of his lowerback while the other hand softly held Niall's elbow, ushering it to fold against his back. A moment of stillness passed between them, Niall hearing his heartbeat through the wood of the door as his chest was pressed against it and Zayn feeling Niall's skin heat under his fingertips. Niall was getting hard against the rough surface he was firm against. It was uncomfortable, his dick trying to stand upright but the door defying its attempts. He whimpered. Then Zayn said through his teeth, "and what did I tell you about manners?"

If Niall had to thoroughly recite the events of that evening, he wouldn't be able to. He'd simply say bits and pieces he remembered.

He remembered Zayn freeing him of his clothes against the door. He remembered Zayn's tongue all over his body, leaving a trail of warm spit before it turned cold when the air hit it. He remembered being bitten everywhere and being warned not to come as Zayn opened him up with an introduction of three fingers instead of one. He remembered being thrown across a counter, his arse sticking out as Zayn's tongue took the place of his fingers. He remembered sweating and being too hot and all his blood squeezing into his dick and Zayn's hand wrapping around the base of it just as his back arched to come and Zayn's teeth biting his rim.

He remembered just as he was simmering down Zayn spread his arse and buried his dick in him as deep as it would go. He remembered trying to grasp onto something when Zayn held both his wrists in a tight grip, the other hand pulling him back against his cock as he snapped forward at each drive into him. He remembered being thrown across their sofa, his face in the cushion as one leg rested across the back of the sofa and the other's foot flat on the ground, making him more open and accessable for Zayn. He remembered Zayn pressing his face further into the cushion with one hand and ramming into him further into the sofa. He remembered Zayn's hand tight around the base again seconds away from release. He remembered the head of Zayn's dick mercilessly assaulting his prostate and it was so good it was bad and he rememebered feeling like he couldn't breathe because all the blood was south and his body felt like it wasn't on his side.

He remembered being thrown on their bed, his back against the silk sheets as Zayn planted himself between his open legs. He remembers his legs on Zayn's shoulders, his hands yet in another grip above his head as Zayn picked up speed in him. He remembered grunts and moans and groans and gasps and he remembered wondering how the fuck didn't Zayn come yet because if he couldn't come in a second he would cry and he sure as hell didn't want to cry in front of Zayn. He remembered lifting his head, his eyes crossing and his mouth falling open as his release was right there when a firm hot hand was there gripping him.

He remembered right then he threw his head back and cried, frustrated with Zayn and beginning to whimper. He remembered barely able to focus on anything because blood wasn't traveling to his head and Zayn was repeatedly shoving his dick deeper in him and his prostate must've burst three times already because his dick felt swollen and needy and agitated and it was physically beating in Zayn's hand and he never been so angry and filled with ecstacy before. He remembered struggling to breathe, air coming in short gasps and being knocked right out at each thrust.

And he remembered not being able to take it anymore and hoping his whimpering of Zayn's name and pleading for him to just let him come already because he literally couldn't take it anymore wasn't just mentally stated. He remembered his legs being stretched to its limit as Zayn released his grip, his nails deep in Niall's hips as he shoved him down on his dick and snapped forward with all the muscle capacity he had in his legs. Niall couldn't say he remembered what followed because he thinks his mind stopped working for a minute or two.

Those are the bits and pieces Niall could've been able to recite.

 

 

"The food's getting cold," Zayn murmured to Niall who buried his face deeper into the blanket.

"My ass is getting cold," he grumbled. Zayn trailed a soft hand across Niall's bum over the thin blanket. "Don't touch me."

"But I like touching you." Niall brought the blanket to gather under his nose as he looked at Zayn. His blue eyes followed the movements of the tan man as he moved up to lay next to him, his back against the headboard.

"You murdered me about five times. You don't deserve to touch my ass. Nor any part of me."

"You called me old."

"You made me _sore_. I have practice tomorrow and my whole body is so fucking _sore_ now, you cunt!" Zayn wasn't affected by Niall's outrage. He merely shrugged, repeating his last statement. Niall turned over slowly, trying not to disturb a sore spot or meet a new one.

"Want me to give you a massage?"

"Didn't I say to not touch me?"

"You said a lot of things. And if I recall correctly, you were implying you wanted a good fuck right before Perrie interrupted our discussion and I highly believe you called me old to get me to do this. Am I wrong?"

"Who's the one not using manners now, fucker."

"You are." He tentatively dragged his hand across the outline of Niall's body, his fingertips almost slightly making contact. He could've outlined Niall's body with his eyes closed if he had to. "I love you," he said. He really really _really_ meant it. He was really really _really_ in _love_ with the boy laying next to him. Sometimes it was unbearable, seeming to squeeze his throat in the middle of a lesson when his glance would land on the painting at the end of his room, his students murmuring questions of assurance and worry to him amidst this. Sometimes it woke him up in the middle of the night, and he'd lie awake until morning just in tune to the boy in his arm's heartbeat against the palm of his hand splayed across his chest. Sometimes it was during a fight between them that lasted for a day or two, and in the late hours of him grading tests or assignments at his desk, he'd risk a look up to see the blond boy perched on the couch, watching television with a scowl on his face. And moments like this made him think _"I wouldn't want to be fighting with anyone else."_

     Sometimes it was during the class he taught Niall in, and Niall's head was on the desk in slumber. And he'd laugh at himself because he hated disrespectful students who were ghetto and lazy and ravenous and plain out mean at times. And that's exactly what he fell in love with. A mixture of all those qualities he loathed blended precisely to perfection and he couldn't imagine a day where Niall wasn't waking up next to him.

"Go fuck a horse," the boy laying down said, bringing him back to the present.

"Are you really mad at me?" Zayn asked, firming his body to curve against the back of Niall. His hand was tracing soothing patterns on the hip that will bruise by tomorrow. Niall huffed a sigh, closing his eyes.

"No, I'm not. A little scared for tomorrow, but no, not mad."

"What are you scared for, baby?"

"My body really hurts now and I can only imagine how it's going to feel tomorrow," he grimaced, tensing when the movement caused a sharp pain in his neck. Zayn kissed the space behind his ear, then he flattened his hair and kissed his temple, then his cheek and back to behind the ear.

"Let's ditch," he responded, repeating the phrase Niall used only everyday when they talked about assignments due the next day in uni.

Niall slowly rolled onto his back to look up at Zayn. "Really?" he beamed, lips stretched in a smile to show white teeth and eyelashes fanning eyes carved out of smooth ice. It took a moment of self-preservation for Zayn to reply.

"Really really." Niall sighed happily at that, nodding his head slightly and biting his lower lip.

"I'll tell Coach my body was sore from practice. I'm only half lying." Zayn chuckled before ducking his head to kiss him. When he pulled back, Niall said, "I want food, peasant."

"Now who's been spending too much time with Louis?"

"Don't make me repeat myself, slave."

"Manners," he scolded for what seemed like the millionth time in a few hours.

"Get my food, slut." Zayn walked to the kitchen, muttering something about the ungrateful children of this generation. When he came back, Niall was painfully putting on a pair of sweats.

"You really shouldn't move," Zayn advised as he sat on the bed, already clothed in sweats that hung low on his hips.

"Well, you're distracting with those pants and I need to at least attempt to look promiscuous, too."

"You always do. And are you trying to go for a round two?"

"More like, round four, or something. And _no._  I'm actually not," Niall scolded, his back against the headboard and his legs tangled with Zayn's who faced him on the bed.

"You're finally sated for once. I'm quite surprised. I need to write down today's date for future references."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Niall retorted around a mouthful of his cold cheeseburger. Zayn looked up at him as he was spreading the dressing across his salad, his look clearly expressing the endless depths of Niall's hormones.

Zayn would wake up to his lowerhalf being pounded into the mattress as Niall rode him on his lap, holding himself up by placing his hands behind him on Zayn's knees. Zayn would be grading an assignment when he'd hear the door to his classroom lock and before he could've ask who locked the door, Niall was on his knees in front of him, pulling his pants down. And in a matter of minutes he was coming down his throat as Niall forced his tan hands to pump his head, fucking his mouth. Zayn would be cooking their dinner when Niall would press himself against his back, his dick prominent and finding its way between his arse. And he'd find himself with one leg laid on the counter from knee to ankle, the other balancing him on the floor as Niall had his way with him, stuttering his hips quickly as his dick pumped inside Zayn.

"I'm sated quite often, thank you," he murmured, still looking down. Zayn chewed his food slowly, smiling as he moved to sit next to Niall.

"Of course you are, baby."

"But really. Thank you, though."

"For?"

"For fucking me like that. I admit I asked for it, so," he shrugged, stuffing his mouth with fries, "yeah, thanks."

"It was my pleasure, love," Zayn nodded. Niall laughed at his remark, at how literal he meant it.

"I love you," he responded wiping his mouth with his hand.

"I love you, too. And thank _you_ , though."

"For what?"

"For everything else."


	2. Chapter 2

They met because of, _surprisingly_ and _coincidentally_ , Louis.

 

 

Louis and Niall went to the same primary school, barely exchanging a stare when they passed each other in the hallways. And they sat on opposite sides of the cafeteria. Rather spending his time in the back of class singing instead of joining the fifty and some clubs like Louis, there was barely a time when their lives intersected. But Louis was known throughout as the one with no verbal filter who couldn't take anything serious if he tried, and Niall the one with the too loud mouth and contagious laugh. They at least knew each other's names. They knew _of_ each other.

They attended the same college, getting to know each other by their mutual love for football. And they were always on the field playing, whether through the rain or snow or the apocalypse. Minds on a single track, predetermining each other's next move, exchanging a whole game plan from across the field just by mere eye contact, they were on fire; sometimes having the coach blow the whistle to howl at them for hogging the ball and not keeping the other players in mind. _"_

 _This is a team! A! Team! There's no "I" in team, you hear?"_ he'd roar. _  
_

_"Well, there's three in I don't give a shit,"_   Louis would murmur to Niall as they shuffled their way to their starting points, and Niall's cackled laugh alarmed the whole field.

 _"Is there something funny, Niall?"_ he had yelled, whistle dangling against his spandex jacket while he briskly walked towards them. Louis spoke first, sighing and shrugging his shoulders in a way like whoops, my bad.

Looking at the coach, Louis answered, _"well, I was just telling Niall here that that has nothing to do with football. I mean, obviously there's no "I" in team. That's why we're in school, you know? To spell stuff."_ Coach Preston would fume, the fog around them seeming to pass as the smoke pouring out of his ears. Louis continued. " _But then I really thought about it. Maybe you meant that we weren't interracting with the rest of the players. And I said, 'innit weird, Niall, that he said there's no 'I' in team. But there's the two of us. So clearly we_ are _working as a team. The rest are selfish, just frolicking around while we do all the dirty work.' And I've payed enough attention in class to know there's an 'I' in selfish."_ This made Niall cry with laughter. This made them stay after practice for detention. _"There's football detention? I'm getting penalized for kicking a ball, dear Coach? Is every practice detention, then?"_ They stayed after for detention for a month. They were good friends.

They were both accepted to the same University, unplanned and finding out on their third week walking around the campus. Niall lived in a dorm. Louis lived alone a handful of minutes away. Niall applied because he didn't want to see a familiar face from his hometown, rather hoping to be surrounded by faceless silhouettes. (Louis was an exception, though. Louis was always an exception.) Louis wanted to go there to meet new people. Being a people-person, he was everyone's favorite, leaving a feathered reply or a splashed colored of conversations everywhere he went and to everyone he met. Niall was his favorite, and they were inseparable by this point. They were best friends.

Niall was obviously and confidently straight. He never failed to hide his sporadic and flaming attraction to the opposite sex, obscenely looking at girls' asses, leaning his head and eyeing a pretty girl when she walked by. He used his charming guitar ability to lure them in, giving requests to the ones he aspired to take back to his dorm or creating a melody with a set of beautifully described nouns in characterization of one mindlessly passing by. It worked more in his favor than he'd admit. (He didn't want to sound obnoxious and cocky.)

Louis was evidently different, Niall knew. At parties, he didn't particularly stick with him when he lounged with a group of floral scented, partial clothed females. Instead he would drink and exclaim how he loved the world and would attempt to dance his whole night away with alcohol the only substance in his body for hours. Niall didn't mind. He loved him.

Niall would get a date with the girl on the cheer squad, long brunette hair with longer legs that stretched for days. And he'd invite a hesitant Louis because Amy (his date) decided to bring her friend, Eleanor. And it was great until Eleanor leaned up to kiss Louis who had turned to kiss her forehead. _"Don't blame me for trying to be romantic, Niall. Chicks love romantics,"_ Louis had said to him that night after they dropped the girls off. Now Niall definitely knew.

From Louis's too soft hair and curves that could've battled a few girls (if someone payed close enough attention). Louis held a voice an octave or two uncommonly higher and limped-wrists that would flail when the ball was passed to him or when he would explain an event in his life; the wrist was ever present, almost as flamboyant as he was. Whenever a witty homosexual proposal was directed to him by a teammate or when one of them would remark _"suck my dick, Louis"_ (because Louis almost always won a bet someone thought he'd be too scared to attempt), Louis would simply shrug and sigh, responding, _"I won't object, mate,"_ or _"don't make offers you won't keep to,"_ as he walked away. Niall _so_ knew. But he didn't care.

It was brought up one day while they were playing football in the foggy morning before class started. The field was empty, sparse students littered the expanse campus, the weather was thick with soggy rain-painted grounds from the night prior and Louis was complaining about how empty the flat was at times and he got bills faster than he paid them. "Do you know how crazy you can go by staring at a wall for hours, mate? Do you?"

Niall shrugged his shoulders, kicking the ball to Louis who stopped it with the side of his foot. "People like you, Lou. Get a few of them to move in." Louis groaned out loud in annoyance.

"I can't get just _anyone_ to move in with me. With my luck, it'll be a rapist or serial killer and then I'll never see the bright of day. I'll be in hiding forever and you'll never see my stunning face again, poor Nialler." This was another reason how he knew; Louis was _immensely_ dramatic.

"I'll move in with you," he suggested, kicking the retreating ball back to Louis. It flew past his feet as he didn't think to stop it, only staring at the blonde bloke a couple feet ahead of him.

"Niall," he sighed, running fingers through his hair and emitting a breath of fog into the moist air. "Niall, before, you know, you think of moving in with me. Don't get me wrong, I'd love for you to. You're my best pal and all, but, um, I should've told you something a while ago." He waited for Niall to respond, which he didn't so he continued. "I'm not hitting on you or anything, but you should know that...the rumors are true."

"Okay," he finally responded when the silence stretched too far. Louis blinked.

"I'm gay." Niall nodded slowly.

"I know."

"How?"

"It's kind of obvious to me. And I've payed attention."

"You don't have any questions?"

 "Can you pass the ball, please?" This made Louis laugh in surprise, splaying his hands across his hips as he leaned on one foot.

"Niall James Horan, I just told you something that I probably admitted to less than one hand of phalanges and you have the audacity to just brush it off? This is my shining moment and you're _killing_ it."

"I'm so sorry. Please, Princess Louis, continue."

     "You're a pest, you know that?"

Niall laughed, lips lifting on one corner. "I can't say I don't care, because then that means I'm apathetic towards your obviously apparent homosexuality--"

"Hey!"

"--but I do care in the sense that I'm happy you're happy in your skin and that you've finally told me, Lou. I'm surprised it took this long, but whatever. I'm happy. Now I'd still like to move in. I've been dying to leave that shitty dorm since day one."

"You're still a pest," Louis smiled, passing the ball. By the following weekend, Niall moved in.

 

 

Louis knew more than his fair share of people on campus before the holiday break. And being best friends with a gay guy had its perks.

Niall knew who to get a good shag from. He knew who to avoid. He knew who were the clingy ones who'd take mere eye contact as a marriage certificate in a year tops. He knew where to get pot. The good kind at a reasonable price. He knew who talked about him and who was interested and who were worth being serious with.

He'd let Louis give opinions on his outfit before he went to perform at the occasional campus get-together that only featured musicians on some days. He let Louis give his input when he was making a song because _oh god, Niall, I've never heard anything so cheesy. That's rubbish!_ or _that is the cutest thing in this millennium._   _You're making me fall in love with you, Niall, but you're straight, you can't do this to me_.

He knew what was trending (though he cared less) and he knew what to say to what specific girl. He knew what girl responded to common flattery and which ones needed a few strings played and his slightly-visible left dimple to make an appearance. He knew those who didn't take shit and wouldn't even look his way and those were the best because the feeling he contained when he soon slept with them was incredible. _"You're such a manwhore,"_ Louis mindlessly called out, shifting through this month's issue on the uni's sports newspaper. Niall scoffed, clearly amused.

 _"You're saying_ I'm _a_ _manwhore?_ "

In truth to the word, Louis was kind of a manwhore. He liked men. He loved them. And Niall didn't seem to mind that much because Louis didn't have a specific type; he didn't discriminate. He wasn't into the ideal jock with the too broad shoulders and too shiny hair full of gel with muscles as thick as staircases.

He was once attracted to their teammate who had a shy smile and a low laugh because _he's just so sweet, Ni. And he laughs at my jokes. But why is he straight? Why is the universe against me?_ (Niall didn't comment that everyone and their mother laughed at his jokes.) He was once attracted to a Computer Science major who spent too much time in the library that students went to him to find books when the librarian wasn't in sight. _Did you ever seriously look at him? He has the darkest eyes that make me want to shred him apart right there but he's actually really really smart and he's gay, too!_ And then his eyes would glaze over as he rested his head in his hand and sighed happily.

Times like this scared Niall a little because Louis would see them a second time, and a third, and then it'll turn into a date, then a second date, then Louis would cry that night as Niall held him because _he just wants to be friends, Ni. Something about only worrying about school. Who the fuck does that? I'm not a burden, am I? I just require having a good fuck every other night and takeout when we're together_ , he'd sniff, Niall rocking back and forth while murmuring comforts like _he wasn't even worth it. He's a dick. I bet it wasn't even that big_. And Louis would laugh before falling asleep. And Niall would lay him down and lay happily in his own bed because he knew Louis would be fine by the next morning.

But then Louis met someone, clearly beyond his generic jumping taste in men his age, and he told Niall as they were eating Mexican in the county's mall food court. "So I slept with a professor," he said, looking down at his taco as he sucked his teeth to get food out from between them. Niall coughed and a sharp tortilla flake got stuck in his throat. He took a long gulp from his soda and looked at Louis.

"Say again?" he squeaked between coughs while his eyes teared up. His best friend sighed.

"Well, I never told you about this professor of mine who is obscenely hot, dude. Like, seriously, his face should be cropped on every Playgirl model's face. He's a walking Greek god and he's covered in ink, man. His tattoos are so arousing and--"

"Get to the point."

"Right. Um. Well, he's obviously gay, and he tells people this when they ask. Believe me," he laughed, "he's a fucking faggot. But he's so manly at the same time. It's weird. And he's tall--"

"Anyone's tall for you."

"Shut up," he glared. "Well, I've kind of known him for a while. And we're actually good friends. As good as friends a professor and his student can be, I guess. And well. I, um. Stayed after class for help with this shitty test I failed. And we were alone. And, hmm. All throughout the lesson, we were flirting. I was extremely horny. And when he stood up, _he_ was horny." His mouth popped into an O at the memory. Niall flinched inwardly, muttering a sound around the food in his mouth to urge Louis on, because Louis was going to continue anyway.

"And he, uh, stood up. To lock the door. And one thing led to another. And we fucked. Right there. So, yeah."

"In his class?"

"On his desk."

"Shit," Niall breathed. He wasn't gay (yet), but the image of fucking someone on a desk was a bit hot. "I'm surprised you had a professor let you do what you want with him. Good to you, mate," he cheered with a raise of his coke can. Louis fidgeted in his seat, not tapping his can to Niall's.

"I didn't, actually...you know."

"No."

"Niall, I know. But it wasn't that bad."

"No, you didn't."

"Dude," Louis laughed, because the blond in front of him looked shocked and his mouth was hanging open and the chewed food in his mouth looked a bit disgusting. "It wasn't that bad. It wasn't bad at all. It was actually really great. And he was so nice and patient and he knew what he was doing." Niall swallowed the food, blinking at Louis. "Niall, man. He's big."

"I don't think I want to know that at the moment. I'm eating."

"I know, but seriously. It was kind of scary. And though he was slow--maybe turtle slow, but I'm not complaining--my arse _burns_ right now!"

"Lou, what the fuck?" he grimaced, spitting soda in a napkin he quickly put to his mouth. Louis apologetically shurgged, mouthing _sorry_ as they ate for a few minutes in silence. "Thank Odin I don't know this professor because I don't want to picture the two of you.... _that_."

"He's Professor Styles. Brown curly hair. Green eyes. I'm sure you won't miss him," he winked. Niall groaned because fuck he had him for Sociology and he really didn't want his face to be the first teacher he saw in the morning.

 

But then it wasn't just about feeling squeamish when Styles laid a hand on his shoulder to look at his paper. And the whole time he'd think _what did he touch with that hand where did that hand touch Louis oh my God he touched Louis with that hand it's touching me_. It wasn't just feeling sick because at the dinner table _Niall, his dick was so pretty and the tip was pink and I wish I had a ruler to measure it because I'm gonna order a customized glittering vibrator with his measurements because he was so hot and big and_ on and on and on he continued. It became more than a one time thing.

_I walked him to his car alone and_

_He was having a bad day so I_

_We were just laughing and he kissed me then_

And this continued. And Niall got _really_ worried, worried shit because this was the longest Louis' ever been involved with one person since they've been friends. "Louis, what are his intentions?"

"What?" Louis responded, perplexed and about to break the raw uncooked spaghetti noodles, ends clasped in his hands over a pot of boiling water.

"With you, I mean. What are his intentions for you two?"

Louis laughed nervously, pressing the broken noodles under the surface of the water with a spoon. "You two? There is no ' _you two_.' There's him and there's me. We just fuck. That's it."

"You've been coming home early in the morning when you think I'm asleep. You sleep at his house, too. You just don't fuck."

"What makes you think we're not having sex that whole time?"

"He talks about you in class, Lou."

"What?" he said again. He sounded breathless, his lung capacity being squeezed as the word left his mouth. "What does he say?" he continued when Niall didn't answer.

"Well," he sighed, "I'm pretty sure you're the only one who taught him football terms."

"That doesn't mean anything, Niall."

 _"_ _I've made a friend not too long ago and he is quite lovely."_

"Niall, that doesn't signify anything."

" _A special person I know brings the sass out of me, if you ever want to meet a chap like that._ "

"What does that even mean?" (Niall shrugged because he honestly didn't know either.)

 _"Don't ever question how or when you meet someone. Because a few weeks ago I met someone and I don't think I've been this happy in a long time._ "

"Seriously, that's nothing."

" _Yeah, I've had a boyfriend for a few weeks now. We're not the generic couple, but I don't think I've ever wanted anyone else as much._ " Louis really had no words to say. He swallowed, blinked a few times, stirred the soft noodles. But he wouldn't look at Niall. "I perfectly cited him," Niall added in the thick silence.

"It can't be me," Louis whispered.

"Is he seeing someone else?"

"No."

     "Then what, Louis? Because if he's messing around with you--"

     "No. No, Harry won't do that," he shook his head. This was the first time he called him by his first name in front of Niall. "Before he even touched me, he. He made sure I was okay with it. And he asked me after the second time, if this was going to be a continuance between us. And I said yeah and he said only if we don't see anyone for the meanwhile. And it was only for the fucking. And--"

And Louis broke down and cried on Niall's shoulders because it couldn't be true because it was never directed, but he now realized it was implied. It was implied when Harry waited outside his last class so they could get lunch together. It was implied when they held hands in the store, surrounded by unfamiliar faces. It was implied when Harry would smile down at Louis before leaning in slowly to a firm kiss on his lips. It was implied when right before he'd come, he wrapped Louis in his arms and press him flat against his chest, his hips sporadicly pushing his release with a groan in Louis's hair. It was implied when he'd wake up to kisses along his hairline and a soft hand brushing his hair out of his sweaty forehead.

And _oh shit_ he hadn't been in a relationship since maybe before college. And _oh shit_ he had to talk to Harry and when they did Harry was surprised at his outburst because he thought it was evident. And _oh shit_ that disappointed look of rejection across Harry's face tore through Louis in a way he never wanted it to. So he made amends with Harry and agreed _yeah, okay. um. I can do this relationship-stuff. I mean, it's basically we fuck on domestic surfaces, and whatnot, right?_ Harry just sighed and looked away, making Louis complain that he didn't know what to do because he didn't want to ruin it.

So they worked, baby steps, on it. And it was a beautiful, innocent and exciting thing considering the age gap and experiences. _Come on, Niall. He's only thirteen years older than me. And I'm 19 and superior to you so shut the fuck up._ Niall would shut up because then Louis would jump into a relentless speech of how happy he was and what Harry means to him and how he's treated so good and he's greater in bed now and all the special dishes he makes for when Louis stays over and how he's been better at assignments and on the field. Niall simply stared because this was only the preamble.

It got to the point Niall felt like _he_ was in a relationship too because Louis was his best friend/roommate and Harry would talk about Louis all the time (he never said the name in class, of course). He could've guessed which local restaurant Harry was taking him just by his fidgeting and his palm smoothing against his leg when he stopped by to pick up Louis. He knew when Louis wasn't going to be back untill the next morning at how chirpy he was minutes prior Harry's arrival.

He even went on a few dates with them, reluctantly because _Niall, he likes you, I like you, we want you to come, only this time, I promise_. And one time turned to their fourth time at the cinema and Niall was boiling because he didn't want to be a third wheel, nor did he want to let down Louis and Harry because they geniunely liked when he tagged along. Though he sometimes begged to differ because they would obscenely grope each other when they thought they had a moment of privacy and Niall could hear their lips smacking against each other as The Foo Fighters blasted from his earphones.

"You need a girlfriend," Louis realized one late night. They were at their place, TV on in front of them but they weren't aware. Niall's head was resting against the back of the sofa, eyes closed.

"No, I just need to get laid, that's all."

"So why haven't you?"

"I've been invested in a relationship that's not my own."

"See? You want one."

"I really don't."

"You do. And I'm going to find you the perfect girl."

"You're horrid at Cupid. Please don't." 

"I've already got about three in mind," he smirked. He did. None of them would fit. None of them ever fit. Until he introduced him to Professor Malik. And he didn't even have him on the list, obviously.

And _oh shit_ did no one see that coming.


	3. Chapter 3

"Louis, seriously, I'm fine."

"The date yesterday wasn't that hot, Lou."

"Oh my god, Louis, just stop, please!"

"It didn't work the last four times, Louis."

"I swear to fucking Odin, Lou. One more blind date and I might fuck a horse because I'm deprived and your picks _suck!_ "

Louis grumbled, firming his body on the far side of the sofa and crossing his arms. "I'm actually trying to _get_ you laid, you incorrigible bastard." He was about two seconds away from raging so Niall asked _is Harry teaching you vocabulary now?_  Louis giggled. "Well, he's so smart and we played a game where we chose a word for the other to guess the meaning and he chose incorrigible and I didn't know and when he told me I said 'you're an incorrigible romantic' and he laughed and his laugh is just..." and he continued.

He soon stopped his unholy attempts at _Niall's One True Love_ and just informed him when there was a girl willing to fuck or when one of them really wanted to fuck Niall because he was _the mysterious blond which is shit because you're not even mysterious you're like the most flashy heterosexual I've ever met._ Niall really questioned his sanity sometimes and wondered how Harry did it.

Niall particularly liked being single. On second thought, if asked, he would yodle and perform the Riverdance, exclaiming how he was in love with freedom and he was actually in a relationship with being single. " _I'm faithful to her_ ," he'd say with a wink after getting perplexed looks from viewers.

And with his monoidealistic ways and obvious opposite sex attraction, he didn't think anything of meeting Professor Malik. It wasn't even planned, really. There were just a few rumors going around of Louis getting too close with a certain faculty member that grasped his attention. But _Mr. Styles_ was the name he was expecting to hear, and it wasn't.

"Wait, whoa whoa whoa. Did you say Louis Tomlinson?" he asked a duo of girls walking in front of him as one whispered into the other's ear, a hand covering anyone in front of them's view of her mouth moving. They turned around to look at him, irritable and surprised. "Um, why do you want to know?"

"'Cause he's my best mate. And if there's a rumor going around about him I might need to fix it."

"Look," the girl sighed with a roll of her eyes, "it's barely a rumor. And they have been hanging out a lot so don't blame me for just picking out the obvious." She raised her hands up in defense, wanting to conclude this discussion.

"Who has he been hanging out with?"

"Seriously? Just ask him, if he's your friend and all. I'm sure he'll tell you. He's gay and people believe the teacher is, too. S'not like we're making that up."

"Who. Has he. Been hanging out with?" he repeated through his teeth. The girl turned to her friend and laughed.

"Whoa, looks like the friendship runs a bit deeper than that. Someone's a little jealous." She turned to Niall, sighing, "his name is Professor Malik. Art teacher. Reserved. Really hot. Kind of--"

"Okay, thanks," he said with a wave of his hand, already turning around as the girl muttered "whatever." He had no idea who this _Malleck_ person was and neither did he know where was Louis because the only class they kept track of on the other's roster was the class they had together. Now he had to wait for later when Louis was home and hopefully Harry wasn't with him.

"Oh my G _od_ Niall, you missed it! Harry tried to stand on a chair--"

"Who's Maleek?" he asked when Louis made his way to the kitchen, lasagna already baking.

" _Who?_ "

"Professor Maleek. Or Kameel? I don't know. Something like that."

"Do you mean _Malik_?"

"Yes! That's it."

"Okay," he laughed, "yeah, well. Malik's a friend of Harry's. I call him Zayn, though. Mate, he's so cool! And he might be the greatest old friend I have! Really, Zayn's great."

"He's old?"

"Not really. He's just really quiet and reserved. He's about..." Louis swayed his shoulders, "Harry's age, I guess. He looks really young, though. Like, good-looking young. I highly believe he was Cleopatra in a past life."

"I'm scared to ask why," Niall muttered around the lip of his mug, the tea smoke wafting around his face. Louis's eyes bulged.

"Dude, he's gorgeous. Phenomenally gorgeous. It's crazy."

"Do I need to have a talk with Harry?"

"Oh, don't bother. Harry says the same. We try to persuade him into having a threesome with us." Which led Niall to guess he was gay, which led him to remember what led to this choice of discussion.

"Do you and...him, hang out often?"

"Yeah, always. I stay after the class ends a lot. Invited him over a few times, but he never follows through," he frowned.

"And Harry knows?" he asked. Louis looked at him with confusion etched across his face.

"Of course. I mean, they're practically the best of pals. And he introduced me to him. Is something wrong?"

"Um. It's nothing big, but. I heard a few girls talking about the two of you...like, being together and stuff. And the fact it seems like he's gay, too. Just watch it, yeah?"

"Shit, are you serious?" he asked, seeming out of breath. Niall nodded carelessly, shrugging it off like it was no big deal.

"Yeah, but it's not that around, I guess. Tell him, though. So he knows. And Harry, too. So he's not surprised when or if he hears about it, you know?"

"Harry doesn't relent to rumors, you know that," he murmured, the mug of tea Niall prepared for him covering his mouth.

"We both know that's not true. He'd start yelling and crying the second he hears about it."

"Now that's just rude. You make him out to be this naive person who would fall for anything." Niall turned his face towards him, chin leaning down and eyebrow shooting up across his forehead. He didn't have to say anything for Louis to get the message. "Alright, fine. Whatever. Just serve my food."

So Niall served his food and they ate while Louis talked about his day because his days were always more adventurous and daring and Niall didn't mind at all. Most of what they did outside of uni was together so he still had a big sliver or cut of what Louis did because for some peculiar reason, Louis was always doing something. Even at home, he'd find a normal daily thing to be so spectacular that they would both wind up having a good time.

Soon Louis was spending a lot of time out with Harry _and_ Zayn. And Niall never went because he was now officially a part of some group that performed for every holiday occasion or was studying in the library because he didn't want to go home just yet. He was working an extra shift at his new job as a waiter at the four-star restaurant a walk away from where he lived or was working out on the field because the weather was nice. (There was barely ever any sun and the weather ranged from cold wind to frostbite; and Niall hated the cold.)

But in truth Niall kept himself busy because he really didn't like this _Zain_ person. He liked him as much as he liked the odorous kid next to him in Music who was only there because he managed to hit the triangle barely a second later than necessary: far away and out of reach.

He told Louis numerous times to just be careful when around him. To keep the rumors to a one-digit number if possible; if zero, then better. But he was careless and at the moment he geniunely meant it when he promised to be more alert. But Louis's mind ran on one track and by the time Niall's admonition was settled on the clinging mental pavement of his brain, it was pushed off by the racing of other ideas and advices and plans and dares that were etched too thick in the mind.

And he asked Louis so many _times_ if he told this _Malek_ to be cautious also and he would just mutter a sound of confirmation and something about _he's fine_ or _he said don't worry_ _about it_ or _Zayn doesn't care about rumors he's smarter than that_. And this would leave Niall shocked and irritated because he seemed to be the only one trying to dwindle his best friend's name pouring out of people's mouths in the halls and Louis was too wrapped up in his pretty poreless world to even notice his attempts at trying to help him.

And Harry's _friend_ (it escalated to the point he didn't want to mention his name) didn't seem to give two shits what people were saying because _rumors are rumors, Niall you should learn that from Zayn he's really smart._ This made him exasperated and it did not have a little bit to do with the fact that Louis spent more time with old folks than his own so called best friend. Nope, it had nothing do with that at all.

So Niall put matters into his own hands. Asking around school for the professor he reluctantly learned the name of and hoping his loathe wasn't pouring out with it. He found the classroom down the hall from Sociology, always just passed the room without so much as a glance.

The door ajar, he stepped inside, a football perched under his arm. His vision was fixed on the back wall where canvases were hung. Articulate pieces with an abundance of blues, silvers, and browns. Some colors were blended together, but no two dabs of paints were connected, barely any space between them, though. Each with their own distinct shape of faces he couldn't name.

"Mosaic portraits," someone said in the front of the room. He turned to where what he presumed to be Professor _Zayn Malik_ (he finally learned the proper spelling; the name was inscribed into the desk) was sitting, head bent in deep concentration with a yellow Sharpie in his hand scribbling across white blank paper. "And you are?" he continued, slowly lifting his gaze to look at the student by the back of the room.

Niall stared back, suddenly uncomfortable, suddenly forgetting what he was going to say. I mean, sure, he was attractive, if he was being honest. Maybe as attractive as Louis described him. But it wasn't his physical appearance that got to him. It wasn't because his eyes were maybe a bit more gold than he was told or that his jawline was more prominent than he was warned. No, it wasn't because Zayn _did_ look too young to be working with bordering-on-adulthood students or because he looked geniunely humble and placid in a room cluttered with unidentifiable equipments and tools that looked deathly.

Zayn emitted this air of soft authority around him, and it felt like it was wrapping itself around the room, taking Niall with it. If he wasn't stuck stupid with his feet planted to the ground, he might have swayed towards the teacher. Zayn was smiling softly at him, all his attention focused on him, forgetting about everything _but_ him. And Niall knew what Louis meant when he said _you just, like, kind of automatically trust him_. Because Zayn was looking at him expectantly like he had all the time in the world to just hear what Niall had to say.

Zayn still didn't say anything. And it was kind of weird because by now he was sure any other faculty member would've questioned his arrival or cleared their throat or shifted in their seat uncomfortably. But he just sat there waiting, so patiently Niall wouldn't put it past him if he also taught a class filled with anger-situated teenagers. He probably did. He probably also taught Russian Literature & Language and Marketing and maybe even Astronomy because he just possessed this optical trait of intelligence, like someone who had a lot of time on their hands.

But Niall wasn't here to dawdle or stare at someone who was too quiet and should've said something by now and that added to his annoyance. So he shifted his stance to face his whole body to the teacher. "You're Professor Malik."

"Yes, I am."

"I wasn't asking."

"Forgive me, then. And who are you?"

"Niall Horan." Recognition crossed Zayn's face and he lit up, standing up from his seat to walk towards him.

"Mr. Horan, well, it's about time. I've heard so much about you," he smiled, showing white teeth, cuspids pointed sharper than usual. (Niall didn't admit that he always found that drastically attractive.) "I feel like I know you already. Louis doesn't shut up about you. He proper goes into a fit because you're always out lately." He held out his hand, so generously and honestly that Niall _had_ to take it.

"I can say the same. About the uh, um. Talking a lot about, you," he stammered because it wasn't fair. Zayn should only be allowed to have that aura of kind leadership and here he was, just slightly towering him. Just enough that he was an inch or two taller. Just enough that Niall noticed and none of this was supposed to be happening. He was supposed to come in here and demand Zayn to stop being so fucking irresponsible and leave to find Louis and smack some sense into him, too. But he found himself being ushered to sit in the front of the class by a too-attractive-and-nice-for-their-own-good-and-others man moving out of the way so Niall can walk first.

So he sat in the seat right in front of Zayn who sat and placed his feet on the desk. If anyone else did it, it would have seemed like they could care less what he was about to say. Like he was rushing him because he was tired and he wanted to go home. But with Zayn it was more like an invitation. Like a _make yourself comfortable and talk about whatever you want 'cause I don't mind I'll listen to all you'll have to say I have all the time in the world so don't worry._ That made Niall more uncomfortable, ironically.

He was wondering what he was doing there when Zayn spoke. "I reckon you're at a loss of words. Why is that?"

    "M'not at a loss of words," he whispered then cleared his throat, partially embarrassed by his own sudden timidness.

"No? So what brings you to my class, Mr. Horan?"

Niall didn't like the way that sounded so he muttered "call me Niall" without thinking. He only nodded in response, waiting for Niall to continue. He bent down to put the ball between his feet and sat up straight, folding his hands. "Do you have somewhere to be?" he blurted. Zayn looked down at his watch.

"Nope. I'm all yours." That sounded weird, and Niall convinced himself that the feeling of melted steel dripping inside him was because he had no choice but to talk now.

"So, um. I'm sure that Louis, told you about the. The rumors. Or rumor, now."

"He mentioned it once or so." Niall nodded at this, swallowing and shifting his gaze to the crumbled up paper that missed the garbage disposal by a feet.

"I just...stopped by because people are. Well, it's going around, sort of. And I keep telling Louis to be careful but," he laughed nervously, "I bet you know how he is by now."

"Yes. Strange lad, he is. I wouldn't think of you as one who cared what people said, Horan."

"Believe me, it's--"

"Niall. I mean, Niall. Sorry," he shook his head. Niall laughed at that, one side of his smile curling up.

"Believe me, sir. I could give two fucks what people say about him and all," he paused at Zayn's cringe at profanity, "but it's false. And regularly I wouldn't even listen when I hear it in the halls, but I'm sure Harry gets uncomfortable. And, um. Maybe you can be more disciplined. And cautious with him. Sir. Please?" He couldn't help but over explain himself because when Zayn accused him of being attentive of rumors, it wasn't with an attitude. He seemed thoroughly curious and observant of Niall's response.

Zayn didn't say anything. Niall shrugged in the silence. Zayn smiled after a while then nodded. "You have my word, Hor-- Niall. I'll be more _disciplined_ and _cautious_ for Louis and Harry's poor souls of damnation."

"Yeah," he chuckled, "they're gonna damn us all."

"Ugh, you too? I can't get two words in without one of the two jumping into a hearty discussion of the other," he groaned, one hand rubbing his eyes in mock defeat.

"Oh man, I thought I was the only one. I want to shove two forks in my ears sometimes."

"That sounds quite painful."

"Not as painful as hearing them all night...you know." Zayn's mouth popped open.

"You live with that?"

"I live with Louis, so... yeah," he nodded slowly, shifting the ball from hand to hand.

"I am so sorry."

"Your condolence is gratifying." Zayn smirked at that, one corner lifting and the other struggling to stay in place.

"Can I do anything else for you?"

 _Yeah_ , he thought. He thought he could complete his Earth Science project he's been dreading for a month in one night if he put as much concentration as he did earlier with the yellow Sharpie doodle. He thought he could tolerate the bothered customers who got angry when they weren't seated immediately because he bet his whole guitar collection one halcyon smile and soft gesture from Zayn was enough to calm a wailing baby. He thought he could finish the song he's been working on for a few weeks with just the way words seemed to fall out of his mouth like an infinite operating mental lexicon.

"What are those?" he asked, pointing to the back of the room. And that set it off.

Zayn went into a whole discussion (that Niall would soon learn by heart because of staying after class longer and more often than anyone else, even Louis) about the complex of colors and shading and mixing and other words he bet only existed inside a museum exhibiting paintings and other art pieces.

Zayn made it sound difficult, making Niall defensive, and with an implication here and a look of assurance he was seated in the front again with a blank paper and an array of silvers blues and browns colored utensils on the desk next to him. He felt Zayn staring at him right when he touched the paper with a deep shade of midnight blue. "You're staring."

"Is that a bother?"

    "Kinda, yeh," he laughed, looking up at him.

"Fine," Zayn said, rummaging through his drawer for a sheet of paper and a few felt pens of colors. He laid them down one by one. "How about this? I'm going to attempt a mild sketch of you while you continue that. There is no prize, but the winner is the one who finishes first."

"But I want a prize."

"I'll buy you a ball."

"I'm not a _dog_."

"I didn't say that! I meant a football. Or, I don't know. A book to write your music."

"How do you know I write music?"

"Louis talks about it." Niall nodded.

"But how is that supposed to calm me down? You'll still be staring."

"Who said anything about calming you?" he winked. Niall quickly looked down, grumbling about unfair teachers.

He tried. He really really tried to do it. He outlined a tree trunk in the shape of a guitar's body with midnight blue and dotted the inside with green (he stole a few from Zayn) because fuck winter colors, green is cool. The what was supposed to be leaves were mauve-ish. The sky a pink because he felt giddy and flamboyant and his tongue was poking out the corner of his mouth with a big smile and he clasped the colored pencils tightly in his hand and leaned his head down to align his vision with the paper, trying to use as much detail as he could; as much color as possible.

At the end of it all, practically everything on the surface was dotted and more than a necessary number of them were connected and Niall was happy and so very proud and looked up to find Zayn staring at him, hands folded under his chin, pens already put away in a drawer and one piece of color-filled paper in front of him. " _Nuh-uh!_ " he exclaimed, smiling though he lost. "That's not fair!"

"I'm always fair, believe me."

"But-- How did you-- Ugh, I want a rematch!"

"I'd love to, but I think we both know the outcome. I've finished about," he looked at the clock behind his head, "fifteen minutes prior. Give or take."

"This is fucking bollocks," he murmured and crossed his arms as he stood to see Zayn's paper.

"You have a filthy vocabulary."

"Just show me your drawing."

"Manners." He grabbed the paper, the blank side facing Niall. He made a show with his hands, a flashy introduction, before turning it over in the light and " _voila._ "

"Are you fucking kidding me?"

"Jeez, Niall. Seriously?"

"Sir, this is..." he grabbed it, shifting it to see the sun's light catch a few lines and slants on the paper. The sketched Niall was outlined in a thin sharp black. Roots a faded brown that faded into yellow then white at the tips where the early afternoon light caught it. His face was looking down at the mosaic drawing in front of him, skin tainted apricot, eyelashes black and the bottom of his blue irises peaking from under them. Nose framed black, lips a faded pink and the tip of his tongue a darker pink where Zayn must have pressed harder. He loosely framed the body, paying more mind to the green and dark blue of his football jersey. And one hand was holding down a white square, the other with a utensil in his hand, presenting color on the square; a microcosm of Niall's failed work.

"Is this real?"

"It's actually abstract."

"You know what I mean," he smiled down at him. Zayn nodded slowly with a beam of his own. Niall became uncomfortable for different reasons.

 

 

It was kind of predestined, he believed. Whether or not Louis was going to introduce them or let alone meet him, they were going to meet.

They were going to meet when Niall was in the Music room a few weeks later, instruments strewn everywhere and fixed solely on the guitar in his hand. Zayn emerged with two drumsticks in his back pocket, not even aware of Niall on the other side of the room until he screamed, "hey, Zayn!"

Zayn found him flailing his hand at him in greeting and struggling to put the guitar strap around his shoulder to follow him. So he decided to save the kid some trouble and walked to him instead. "Good afternoon, Niall." They were both on first name terms now.

"You play?" he gestured to the drumsticks slanting from the pocket, only the tips visible from this angle.

"Played. Past tense."

"So whatchur doing with them now?" He pointed to the room adjacent, where membranophones were stored. "So then you still play. Present tense." Zayn smirked at that. And they both played in the corner of the room where the drums were set up, mindless of everyone else.

Niall would request a song from the 80s and Zayn would play the ones he knew. Zayn would guess the one Niall was strumming along.

Then they would sit back, semiforget about the other and play their own tune. Niall began playing this song he has been infatuated with for a while now. Something about their loved one crashing into them, and the beat consisted of so many stringed instruments playing it never failed to have Niall lost in it. There was a part that said [_hike up your skirt a little more and show the world to me_](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JU2E1lX1geY), and he'd sing it loud enough for Zayn to hear, to let him know it was directed to him because Niall came to realize Zayn was really clean and quiet and humble and he always thought of them as girly traits. Zayn would just roll his eyes because he knew what Niall was thinking about at the moment.

They were going to meet when at a game, Louis and Niall--close to literally--trashing the other team because no two people were ever so in sync on the field before, were playing and Harry and Zayn stood off at the edge, a camera flashing in each of their hands, in front of their faces. Harry was solely fixed on Louis. He couldn't help it. He wasn't the one assigned to take pictures for the sports article. Zayn was. He just came along because he always attended Louis' games.

After they won, 3-1, the sweaty boys sauntered off to where they were.

"Zayn!"

"Niall."

"Babe!"

"Not in public, Lou. But hi, baby." Zayn and Niall looked at each other and faked shooting a bullet through their heads.

"You did good out there," Zayn leaned his head towards the field.

"Thanks!" Niall said out of breath, post-game adrenaline running through him.

"Seriously, you and Louis work like a pack. You're like a real deal."

"Yeah, we get that a lot. 'Tis a good thing, I believe," he shrugged.

The tan man smiled, "that's a great thing. You're better than I thought. Which is a compliment, trust me."

"My game skills are just as good as my art skills, right?"

"If that were the case, you'd have gotten eaten alive a long time ago." Niall cackled loud at that, and Zayn couldn't help his eyes crinkling at the boy losing it in front of him.

Louis interrupted them. "Guys, can we go home? I'm a bit sweaty. Just a little bit, you know."

"No. You're really sweaty."

"I know, Harry. I was being sarcastic."

"I like you sweaty."

"You're so dirty," he laughed, resisting to urge to pull him close.

" _Ok_ _ay_. Niall, would you help me bring all this to the car, please?" Zayn offered, slinging the camera's strap around his neck.

"With pleasure, man. Don't even ask." They quickly walked away from the ascending couple that fought against the string pulling them closer.

After piling into Zayn's car, they drove down to the end of the line of cars exiting the parking lot. Zayn driving, Harry passenger, Louis behind him, Niall across Louis, the music was set low, Louis and Harry and Niall talking loudly as Zayn looked on fondly at the three.

Soon Niall poked his head between the head of the driver seat and the door, poking Zayn's cheek. "You're awfully quiet," he accused.

"Is that a crime?" Zayn responded.

"The biggest."

"Well, arrest me in handcuffs, officer."

"Who even says that?" he laughed, throwing his head back and taking a moment to compose himself. "And kinky, Zayn. I didn't pull you as a kink."

"You and your assumptions."

"You and your nondenies."

"That's not even a word!" Zayn scoffed, erupting into chuckles that caused him to put a hand over his mouth.

"It is now. You know what I meant. And are you into kink?" he asked again.

"What's feeding your curiosity today?"

"I'm always curious."

"And bold enough to ask," Louis interjected. They ignored him. Zayn fidgeted in his seat.

"I'm not sure I'm comfortable answering that." Niall groaned.

"Fine. I'll answer. I think kink is hot. But it should be saved for special occasions. If it happens a lot, then the excitement dies, you know?"

"I highly agree with you."

"You just admitted."

"I didn't admit anything. I just--"

"You so did!"

"You're more immature than I thought."

"Yeah, but you love me so it's fine," Niall sighed. Zayn chuckled. They knew each other for about four months, close to the end of the school year. "Hey, Zayn?" he added.

"Yes?"

"Can I touch your hair?"

"I don't think that's heterosexual behavior."

"Your gay is showing," Louis interjected again, making Niall turn to him.

"Would you _mind_? Attend your boyfriend or something."

"While you attend yours?"

"Louis," Zayn said, "you're making something innocent very uncomfortable for me."

"Oh, come off it. You like him."

"Do not!"

"Am I not likable?" Niall pouted.

"Of course you are. I'm just trying to explain to Louis--"

"--that you like him and you're using subliminal messages because you're going to tell me all about it later when we're alone," Louis said, throwing Zayn a hyperbolic wink.

"Babe, I know your intentions are moral, but that didn't sound appropriate."

"Harry, are you kidding me?" Louis said at the same time Niall muttered, "yeah, it really didn't."

And the couple continued to talk, Niall hiding in the shadow and slowly peeking his fingertips just above Zayn's kempt hair. Without preamble, he skimmed the tips, running his fingers above them, barely shifting them. Zayn didn't budge, so Niall plunged his fingers in, the bases of the upright strands settling between the spaces of his fingers, tickling the skin. "Having fun up there?" Zayn whispered, humor making his voice jump.

"I like your hair."

"Thank you. You have a unique set atop your head, too." Niall laughed at the snide implication, making Zayn sigh and shake his head, happiness plastered on his face because he knew Niall all too well by this point.

They were going to meet when Niall and Louis were washing clothes at the local laundromat, their washer deciding to break the day before. They couldn't go to Harry's because he was off on a trip with his Law students on an appointment he set up that they worked as jurers for faux cases. "Lou, have you seen my red lucky shirt?"

"Yeah, I think I left it at Harry's."

"Why are you wearing my stuff?"

" _Sorry_ ," he said in a way like he really meant it, "I was rushing and I just grabbed the first thing."

"When is Harry getting back?" he asked after putting in the last load to dry. Louis frowned.

"I don't know. Sometime next week. Next week, dude. The heck am I supposed to do till then?" he crossed his arms.

"Heck? Is Zayn breaking you?"

"Heck is a combination of hell and fuck. So technically, it's double the profanity." Niall ignored his wittiness before offering Louis what he wanted from the storefront.

"Just a chocolate shaped penis for my poor poor heart."

"Oh my _god_ , you're dramatic," he turned around. Up in the front, a man was conversing with someone behind the counter, his mouth pulled apart in a large smile and eyes turned to slits with laughter. "Zayn, man!" Niall called, already familiar with the gracious stance and contradicting grunge attire of the man turning to him.

"Niall," he greeted, white smile and patting Niall on the back. "I wouldn't have thought you came here often."

"Nah, I don't. Washer broke yesterday."

"I see. I'm sorry for that."

"No biggie. Louis's over there," he pointed behind him where Louis' face was stuck to his phone, scrolling through Twitter, he presumed. "What brings you here?"

"Doniya, come over here, please," he called behind the counter, "this is the lad I was telling you about."

"You talk about me?" Niall asked, incredulous and trying to hold back a laugh from sheer embarassment.

"Yeah. It's not everyday you meet a man of your abilities."

"What are my abilities?"

"You can't draw."

"I'm not that bad."

"You're horrid, actually."

"Are you for real?"

"Quite honestly, the worst I've ever had."

"That's not what the girls say."

"Are _you_ for real?" he laughed, bemused and still surprised by Niall's sexual innuendos that he threw in almost every conversation.

"Quite honestly, I'm the realest."

"Far from it."

"The closest."

"You're not a rapper."

"I can try to be. The 'illest."

"You are _so_ ghetto," Zayn laughed, closing his eyes and covering his mouth with a fist. Niall looked on amused, waiting for Zayn to compose himself. When he did, he fixed his gaze on the younger boy, lips bunched in a grin behind his fist.

Niall smirked.

Zayn looked down and chuckled.

Doniya interrupted.

"So, who's this?" Niall shook from his trance, dropping his hands quickly to his side. Zayn merely looked at the woman, leaning against the display case.

"I'm sure I've mentioned a Niall before. Niall, this is my sister, Doniya."

"Only about a dozen times. Niall, it's nice to meet you."

"Pleasure to meet you, ma'am," he shook her hand, casting his gleaming smirk that reflected the right amount of light. She huffed out a breath of air, tan cheeks rosing in color.

"No wonder why you talk about him often," she breathed.

"Excuse me?" Zayn asked, a bit wary.

"You never told me how handsome he is." She still hadn't let go of Niall's hand so he muttered _thank you_ and politely retreated his hand.

"Um. Right. Well, I'm sorry I forgot to mention that?"

"Are you introducing him to mum yet?"

" _Excuse_ me?"

"To mum. She'll have a fit if she finds out you haven't introduced him to her."

"And why would I-- Wait. No no no. Niall's practically a student of mine," he laughed, trying to ease the tension settling between the blond and him.

Doniya looked on perplexed and tilted her head, asking, "And what does that have to do with anything?" Harry and Louis's relationship crossed his mind.

"I guess it has nothing to do with it, then. But Niall here's a good friend, s'all."

"A great friend," Niall added, putting a hand around Zayn's shoulder and looking up at him. "Am I right?"

"Right you are," he agreed, bumping his hip to his.

"I'm not following..." his sister started, "but whatever, it was really nice meeting you. I'll see you next time. And Zayn, stop by. The kids miss you."

"Will do," he said, his sister already out of view. He quickly turned to Niall. "Please ignore her. Ignore that whole thing. I'm so sorry. I didn't think she would initiate such a thing."

"I honestly didn't think anything of it."

"Really?"

"Quite honestly, yeah," he joked. The tension was gone and they discussed about their families.

"She's my older sister. I have three."

"I have an older brother named Greg and a little sister named Katie."

"Waliyha and Safaa are my younger sisters."

"Wow, you're the only boy. How did it feel growing up with women?"

"Kind of overwhelming. Really emotional, a lot of the time."

"Probably why you like dick," Niall laughed. Zayn couldn't help but laugh back.

"Yeah, probably why," he joked. "But no, it's probably not."

"Then what is it?"

"Well, why do you like girls?"

"'Cause they're hot."

"And?"

"Is there anything more?"

"You're so narrow-minded," Zayn groaned. Niall hit his arm.

"I am _not_ narrow-minded! Sorry that no one ever caught my attention enough to get past the third date."

"You never had a relationship?"

"When I was like..." he pursed his lips and looked at the ceiling. "When I was about twelve, thirteen. Around there."

"Oh God, that doesn't count," he cracked up. Niall couldn't help but laugh a little because _yeah, I guess you're right_. Zayn calmed down, letting off a sigh and leaning back against the wall. He turned and found Niall staring softly at him, and he gave a steady smile in return.

"Ni, I folded your clothes. Stop flirting with Zayn and come get them," Louis called out loud from the back. Niall snapped out of his trance with a groan. Zayn seemed unfazed.

"Is _he_ for real?" he mused. Niall went cackling.

They were going to meet when Niall had to walk to the local supermarket to buy beer and snacks for the derby game airing that night.

He was fidgeting all the way there, nervous, on edge for the game. Louis was visiting his family for the weekend, taking Harry with him and officially introducing them. He was alone and starving and seconds away from screaming because there was no beer or snacks and he had little less than an hour to get it all on time.

Pulling down the bottom of his jumper and running fingers through his hair, he grabbed the nearest basket and almost ran to the aisle. About a few feet away from his destination, he barged into someone, his sneaker got caught over the untied lace, sending him barreling to the floor. "Fuck," he groaned, already on his feet again and turning to apologize when a firm darker hand fixed itself around the jut of his wrist bone.

"Jeez, Niall. I barely saw you on time to stop."

"Zayn! Zayn, you gotta help me!"

"What is it? Tell me right now," he responded immediately, squeezing the top of Niall's arms with both hands. Niall looked around him, remembering his fate was in his own hands.

"Oh. Right," he stammered, walking towards the aisle, Zayn following close behind.

"Niall, you're scaring me."

"The game," he whimpered, throwing random bags in the basket as he continued to walk, mindless to what he was grabbing. "The game starts in half an hour. The game, man. And I don't have shit."

    "You're joking."

"Does it look like I'm joking?" Christ, Zayn didn't know how to calm him down.

"Okay. Um. Can I do anything?" Niall snapped his head up in remembrance.

"The beer!" And he went off, Zayn timidly following.

There was a register empty, Niall almost cried in relief as he shuffled out his stuff onto the belt. "Zayn? You're still here?"

"Yeah," he dragged the y. "You had bit of a show back there."

Niall sighed, "sorry. Sheesh, I try not to get wired up, but--"

"The game, I know."

"The game," he laughed in response, paying the impatiently waiting coworker. They shuffled outside, Zayn long forgetting what he came there for.

"Do you need a ride?"

"No, I have enough--" he looked down at the time displayed on his lock screen. "No, I don't have enough time. No, I'm not going tO GET THERE--"

"Oh God, just get in the car," he grumbled and unlocked the doors. Niall was already seated when his door closed, trying not to hyperventilate as he told Zayn the address. "Hey, Ni. You're okay, right? You're not going to die if they lose?" he joked. Niall's hand whitened around the knuckles while tightening his grip on the neck of the bottles on his lap. Zayn surged and gripped his wrist till his hold loosened. "Hey, stop that. I'm joking."

They stopped right in front of the house. Zayn's thumbs tapped against the steering wheel before he realized the boy next to him hadn't moved. "The game?" he reminded him.

"Right. Um. Are you busy?"

"For the day, no."

"Why don't you stay?"

"Is this your way of bribing me for the night?"

" _No_ ," he laughed incredulously because Zayn could be just as young as him sometimes and it was so amusing. "It's just, Louis' away. M'not particularly fond with anyone at school, they're all shits--sorry--and Harry's with Louis. So."

"So I'm your last option?"

"You're actually my first. Louis would invite Harry and Liam went home for the weekend."

"Charming prick, you are."

"Seriously, Z. Come on, please. I know you don't like staying, but--"

"What gave you that impression?"

"You'd never come over when Louis invited you." Zayn kind of nodded, kind of shrugged because well, that was true. "Come on. Only for the game." Zayn leaned back in his seat. "Please?"

A car beeped the horn behind them. He looked at Niall's pouty mouth. "Get the crisps ready. I'll park the car," he grinned.

Around halftime, crisps were strewn all over the floor when Niall threw the full bowl across the room. He barely even sat down, preferring to jump and shout and punch the air. Or he'd skip across the floor as if the ball was between his feet, expecting the player's other move.

"No. No no no no. Wait. Fucking no! Are you kidding me?!"

"Yes! You got it! Go go go! YES!"

"He's close. He's close! He's got it! Shit, he's got it! KICK IT!"

"MY GRANDMOTHER CAN DO THAT BETTER, DIPSHIT. PLAY LIKE A MAN!"

"Don't let him get the fucking ball! I swear to god if-- KICK THE DAMN BALL HE'S OPEN!"

Each outburst scared the skin off Zayn. It came when least expected. Zayn would be rummaging in his satchel ( _it's a manpurse, Niall don't give me that emascualting look_ ) for the art doodle he never finished when Niall would start screaming. He was finishing a chapter on his Kindle when random crisps started hitting the screen and his hair, and he looked up to see the bowl upside down in midair as Niall screamed at the television  _that's not a foul, piece of shit, I'll show you a fucking foul!_ If he didn't know the young energetic boy in front of him as well as he did, it might have been scary and he would have sneaked out before the game even started because Niall was screaming and kicking and pulling his hair then. But he did know him and it was endearing and so entertaining and he hoped there was a game the next day and next weekend and maybe the week after that because he was so funny and amusing and Zayn got a kick out of watching him fuss around.

The game ended, 2-1, Niall a screaming _I fucking told you shits they'd win they always win god I fucking love life_ mess on the other side of the sofa, drunk and flushed and content. And Zayn felt content, too. Just with his own television show of _Niall's Antics During Football_.

"Do you get like this for every game?"

"Like what?" he asked, slurred. Zayn only gestured to the thrown pillows, scattered food pieces (some crushed to dust when Niall roughly stomped around), a remote on the far side of the room with the batteries aside it when Niall threw that also, and the empty beer bottles that littered the coffee table.

"I don't know what you're talking about, man. Just enjoy life."

"That was really amusing. I might have to stop by next time to record you."

"I might have to record _you_. You juz sat there th' whole time. How do 'ya _do_ it? _Ughhh_ , the nerve of peoble."

"Are you quite finished?"

"You're such a lady."

"I beg to differ. And you're drunk. I'm glad you're happy, though." Niall laughed under the crook of his elbow, arm splayed over his face. "I'd clean up, but I have a meeting." Niall shot up when he felt the dip of Zayn getting up from the sofa. His eyes were watery and hazy, like melting ice, lips dark pink and cheeks a little lighter than them.

"You're not staying?"

"Um, I did. For the game."

    "But Louis stays with me," he pouted, really pouted this time.

"Louis lives here," Zayn said, mindlessly licking his lips. Niall's gaze flashed to it, before looking up at Zayn. Zayn stood there, waiting for Niall to speak. Niall had a good comeback, and he searched his brain for it but it wasn't there anymore.

With a huff, "fine. Go. Leave me to fend for myself."

"I'll come by tomorrow morning."

"Tomorrow's class."

"I'll come early enough," he promised. He did.

They were going to meet when Niall was covering a late shift at work, people buzzing with so much energy it was like there was an unspoken verbal contest on who was the loudest. A few dishes on its way to a table fell, casting a number of waiters to clean up the mess before the manager arrived, making Niall cater a few bit more than his share of tables. He did okay when he asked for their orders, smiling when needing to and repeating them their choices. He did okay with handing the orders to the specific chef that was quick yet still satisfying. And he did okay with seating the awaiting people in the front.

But it was Saturday. He was working since before joggers were up, the only substance in his body all day was the coffee on his way to work (the caffeine had already worked its purpose). The place only got busier and more packed and louder and Niall couldn't remember the last time everything seemed so out of order. He was just really hungry and bordering on passing out from exhaustion. Ungrateful kids were wailing all day with different requests for dessert or wanting to drink the blue fizzy stuff only for adults. His manager screamed at him earlier when he passed by a dirty table and when he tried to explain he was going to get his table's dinner, he walked away; and his customers weren't happy when he finally arrived. He was on the brink of crying with everything piling on him and from being sexually frustrated because his last shag a month ago was shit and it was dark outside and he was so flustered he almost jumped out of his skin when a firm hand wrapped around the bend of his elbow.

"Hey, I haven't heard from Hormonal Fiend all day," Zayn softly spoke, in lieu of a greeting. (Hormonal Fiend was what Niall saved himself as on his phone and he got a kick out of that.)

"Zayn, I-- Sorry, man. I'm just busy, s'all. As you can tell," he gestured around him.

"This place is chaos."

"I didn't expect to see you here."

"Saw you from the window. Glass windows should be more common." Niall nodded, traces of a smile on his face.

"You don't look so good."

"I feel shitty. I'm so tired and I'm just itching to play guitar so bad it hurts, but I know I'm gonna pass out in a minute." Zayn knew the feeling. It wasn't laziness. It wasn't that he preferred to do that instead of work. It just became so big a part of your life, that it's close to a necessity. And Zayn knew the feeling of something crawling under his skin because there weren't any papers or pens around.

"Come on. I'll take you home."

"I _can't_ go home," Niall almost cried. He swayed to and fro, scaring Zayn a bit.

"Go sit by the entrance. I'll talk to who's in charge."

"Don't do it, man. It's not worth it, I--"

"I said. Sit upfront." He left without another word. Zayn turned towards the kitchen. Everyone was so busy they didn't see a stranger walking in. A chef spotted him soon, about to mutter something when Zayn ordered him to point him towards the chef responsible for Niall's customers. It only took a few clipped words and a stern look for him to obey. And he was alresdy sauteing before Zayn turned around fully. "Where's the manager?"

"I'm the manager," someone said behind him as he turned around, "now, who are--"

"Have you seen the state of your coworker?" he accused, pointing out where the tables were. "Niall's close to passing out from exhaustion and I have the number to close this whole place down if you so much as defy me," he threatened. (He was actually telling the truth.) "Now I'm taking Niall home, and he'll be back for his next shift, but he's done for today."

The manager blinked. "Yes. Of course. Please, by all means, escort him. He must be tired from the day."

Zayn left without a word, tugging his jacket tighter around his shoulders and keeping his anger at bay for the blonde boy already asleep, head against wall, beanie askewed and jacket still unzipped. "Hey. Hey, Niall. Come on." Niall woke up easily, eyes hooded but managing to stand up and exit without tripping. Zayn kept a hand on his shoulder, balancing him.

"Thank you, Zayn. I really appreciate it," he said around a yawn.

"Don't thank me. You were about to die in there. Now, come on, I'll walk you home."

"Is this a post-date?" he asked cheekily.

"Absolutely not."

"Don't walk me home. It's freezing and I can manage."

"You're about as upright as a drunk." He put an arm around Niall's shoulder as they walked down the street. His head lolled a bit, leaning on Zayn then vertical, shifting to the other side, leaning on Zayn again. Silence passed through them, only the wind making noise. They crossed the street, walking just two houses up when Niall stopped.

"'Z my spot." He leaned against the doorframe, jabbing the key around the keyhole numerous times before getting it right. Zayn watched on in amusement. When he made it inside, he turned around to find Zayn about to walk away. "Zayn? Where are you going?"

"Home?"

"Oh, yeah. Come say goodbye, then," he whimpered, slurred. Zayn shuffled forward, wrapping one arm around Niall in a hug when the younger boy wrapped both around him, squeezing again. "Thank you, again. I could never repay you."

"Whether I knew you or not, I was going to go in. You looked bad. It's really not a big deal, honestly," he chuckled. Niall let go, taking a step back to get a good look at Zayn. He was alert now. Awake. And Zayn's smile pulled up on one side, so innocent and giving and so _there_.

"I like you," Niall said, matter of factly.

"And I you. Get some sleep. Don't wake up till Monday," he joked, then turned around, walking away.

Neither were consciously aware of the truth behind Niall's words.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The verse from the song mentioned by Niall is called Crash Into Me by Dave Matthews Band. It's great!


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so sorry for the wait!!! I hate waiting for updates, too, so this was not my intention to post a fucking month later!! *composes self with a slice of key lime pie* This chapter was completed about a few weeks ago, but I don't have wifi, so... I'm so sorry and please don't kill me :( Chapter 5 is already in progress.

Mouth stuffy, Niall woke up with his head at the foot of the bed, clothes strewn in a trail leading to where he laid, and a thin comforter barely covering him. He shook from a shiver, managing to make it to the shower in one go. Brushing his teeth and letting the warm water stream down his face, his mind was foggy, still in his third dream or such.  

He threw on a pair of sweatpants that accompanied a pullover because he couldn't shake off the cold. The solution to his problem was found in the hallway. Louis forgot to turn on the heater the night before. He sighed, setting the temperature and going to the kitchen to make pancakes; he felt a desire of drowning something in syrup at the moment due to his dwindling sugar level, in his opinion.

Halfway through his third pancake, a giggling Louis emerged from his room, glasses diagonal on his nose and a sleepy Harry following him. "Oh. Hi, Niall," Harry grumbled, clearly bothered with being up early. It was actually past noon. Niall decided to remember this day because for once he woke up earlier than Louis.  

"Morning, H. I made Louis breakfast, but I'm sure you can share. I didn't know you'd be here," he shrugged.

"Just tea is fine," he smiled at Louis who was working butter and strawberries on his pancake.

Niall laid his head down on the table, deciding to take another nap while simultaneously raising his fork and watching the translucent brown liquid drip down a prong. "Why did you get home late?" Louis asked him.  

"I had work. Was busy as shit, man."  

"I would've went to get you, but I didn't want to."  

"Fucker," Niall laughed. "It's fine. Zayn walked me."  

"Aw, like a post-date?"  

"No," he laughed again, about to continue when his mind demanded his whole attention.  

 _Zayn's smile pulled up on one side, so innocent and giving and so_ there.   

Niall vaguely remembered being walked home by Zayn. But something unsettling stirred in the pit of his stomach at that memory. He felt oddly nervous, and his chest ached a little with each breath. His eyebrows furrowed for understanding. Nothing came.  

He hummed in confusion, going back to cutting his breakfast in a square, big and thick like he liked it. (He'd laugh later in the future at the accuracy.) "Alright there?" Harry asked, nudging Niall with his elbow.

"Yeah." He shook his hair out of his face. "M'good."  

"Okay. Zayn texted me saying why are you awake when he said to sleep till Monday?"  

"No, he didn't. I don't remember--"  

_"I like you," Niall said, matter of factly._

_"I like you," Niall said, matter of factly._

_"I like you," Niall said._

_I like you_

"Shit," he breathed. Or stopped breathing because everything seemed to stop for that moment. Everything. The clock ticking by the doorway. The spoon an inch away from Louis' open mouth. Harry's thumbs stuck in typing a text. Niall's heart and brain and functions and everything paused.  

"Yeah, he did text you wouldn't remember anything," he laughed, completing the text and sending it. "Said you were fucking out of it last night."  

"What else did he say?"  

"Nothing. Well, he said good morning. You're not annswering your phone also."  

"Okay," Niall squeaked, getting up and washing his dish before locking himself in his room.    

There was one text and one missed call. The text coming after the call. From Zayn.  

 _Do i hav to personally put u in bed again?_  

Niall felt an unnatural leap at the words, something foreign and bubbly and warm plastered against his breastplate.  

 _Depends, r we gettin physical ?_  

He couldn't help but bite his lip when he sent it, smiling and then freezing because what the _fuck_. His heart hammered in his chest. If he placed his phone atop of his left breast, his phone would jolt with tremors at each beat. His hands were getting sweaty and his room felt foggy, like after smoking weed for a good amount of time.  

He sat up straight, back firmed against the headboard and immediately reading the text that arrived.  

_If you resist, yes. I will literally put you IN bed, to sleep_

_U serious ?_

_No, but i would feel happy if you got more sleep. You werent yourself._

What? _Why wasn't I myself?_  Niall thought. What did Zayn know? Oh god, what did Zayn _think_? He couldn't be mad, or bothered. He was texting Niall.  

 _Why wasnt i myself ?_  he couldn't help but text back.  

_You were tired, i mean TIRED. At least you 'seem' well rested. Good :) xx_

Niall didn't text back because he needed to think clearly and Zayn was a distraction. Zayn was definitely a distraction and he didn't remembered a time when he tried to focus on something so much. But he couldn't help but...  

_Did somethin happen yestrday ? or did i say somethin ?_

_Um, you said you were tired constantly, does that help ?_  

No, it actually didn't help at all because Niall didn't know how to go through with this; he couldn't remember how this started.  Never was Niall one to beat around the bush or stay oblivious to something about himself. He knew if something was up or if something changed within him and he met it full force every single time. Faithfully.  

But even now, this was different. This was _so different_ , for lack of a better word. He could eat a dictionary and maybe communicate with only a philosopher or two for years and he still might not ever find the right word. It was almost overwhelming. Tears brimmed his eyes and the feeling of something ripping out his hair follicles cocooned his body. Taking a shower was a waste because he was damp. A big damp mess with clothes stuck to his body and blonde strands to his forehead. He thought he might be sick. And he was right when he ran to the bathroom right on time as he revisited his breakfast into the toilet.  

The first time he can recall throwing up was when he was seven years old. Liam (his cousin) was playfully advancing on him as they played tag and out of nervousness, he walked backwards, not seeing the raised ground surface, and fell back, hitting his head with the asphalt of the street. The next thing he remembered was waking up next to his house with Liam asking him how many fingers he was holding up. He muttered thirty-seven, making Liam worriedly shuffle his frazzled cousin inside the house. Sitting on the stool in the kitchen and waves of aching nausea casting over him, he retched right there.

The second time he can recall was in primary school. The class bully was following him home, and he was alone and nowhere near his destination. With each step he took, it seemed the bully took two until he was just hovering over Niall with a hand raised out. Niall ran the rest of the way, his stalker on his tail. And he was able to lock his door right before the kid climbed the fence. Piss drenched the front of his shorts and he didn't make it to the bathroom when his stomach emptied itself, his mother rushing to him when first seeing his body hunched over the floor.  

The third time was the day of his first championship game. Competing to win #1 Minor League of his hometown, they were facing another team known for their brutality and keen ability at never being caught committing an offense. He wanted this victory so bad and desperately, he went to bed later than anyone else in the house to practice keeping the ball between his feet when faced with opposing forces or twirling his feet in a way that'll send the ball to an open person from across the field near the goal. Louis and him were getting there by Louis' mother, Jay, and as they sat on the front porch, it suddenly struck Niall the significance of the day and the weight on his shoulders stiffened and brought him down and the pressure seemed tangible and his stomach wasn't agreeing with his mental state of mind because he turned to the nearest container and heaved until nothing was left and only bile streamed out. The container happened to be Jay's proud pot of growing Frangipanis.  

The fourth time was now. His stomach decided to not agree with him when his brain was out of whack or when he was nervous. And he was _nervous_. He was devastated. He was mortified. Not because he was homophobic. His greatest friends were homosexual. But the thought of _him_  being attracted to the same gender never crossed his mind before, _ever_. It was like the sudden switch and turn of preference in his brain caused it to crash and make his whole body react diabolically because nothing at all was agreeing with him.  

His head was aching and hammering, beating faster than his heart that pounded against his ribcage angrily in a way he thought biologically impossible. Sweat drenched his frame and his clothes hugged every accessible service, making everything more unbearable and uncomfortable. His strength was dwindling, and he had to slowly and carefully force his body to bend in a way that he sat back against the wall of the tub. But then his throat would burn and expand and he'd find himself grasping the toilet bowl for dear life as his body shook and trembled to release nothing at all because thin green bile was the only thing exiting his painful throat and mouth. He felt like he was on fire yet all he wanted to do was curl up under a number of blankets until he was nonexistent to the world.  

"Niall?" Louis softly murmured, rapping lightly on the door. "Niall, open up. You were acting weird earlier. Are you throwing up again?" The only time he was present was the championship day, which they did win, thanks to Louis; he knew the situation had to be momentous if Niall was retching out his stomach.  "Ni, what's wrong?"  

"Where's Harry?" his voice croaked, breaking and scratching against his vocal chords.  

"He fell asleep a few minutes ago. You're scaring me."  Niall opened the door and Louis made himself comfortable across from him, facing each other. He noted his bedraggled appearance but didn't mention it for Niall's sake.  "Will you talk to me?"    

"I always do."  

"You haven't talked to me in a while. I thought you were going to confess something a long time ago."  

"What's that supposed to mean?"  

"You always have this faraway look," he began, rubbing the top of his arm nervously, "and when I ask you a question, you'd just stare at me, or smile or laugh, like you're _trying_ to seem attentive, but you're not."  

"For how long have I been like that?"  

"Few months, actually. I thought it was because Exams, but they passed, and this didn't."  

"Shit."  

"Talk to me. You know you can talk to me, right?"

"Of course, I just..."  

"Just what?" he asked, worried and so caring Niall desperately tried to find a way to form his words.

"How do you..."  Louis waited patiently as Niall began and ended a question.  

"Do you know..."  

"What if..."   

"Can you be..."  

Nothing. And he wanted to cry a little because a) he liked a male which meant b) he was homosexual. Yet he wasn't. Homosexuality was being attracted to the same gender. And he wasn't attracted to boys. Seeing Louis' fit physique stark naked almost every morning proved that. He was attracted to _Zayn_. He _liked_ Zayn. And the flow of Zayn's name coursing through his bloodstream seemed to sane him just enough to converse.  

"How does it feel to like a guy?"  

"...what?"  

"A guy. Your same gender. How does it feel? To like him."  

"Um. It feels. The same as liking a girl, I suppose? Feelings don't change because of gender. I guess it's the same."  

"No, it's not the same. This isn't the same."  

"Are you saying you're gay?"  

Silence.  

"Niall. Why are you asking me this?"

"M'not gay."

"Okay...so what--"

"M'not gay. M'not. I just...really like someone. Who's. A guy. And--"

And his stomach reeled him to grasp the bowl again, like his life support, his refuge. He knew talking to Zayn would help ease this unsettling feeling. Zayn's stretched smile and easy words of comfort always helped Niall when he didn't know he needed it. And now he franticly needed it. And Zayn will be nothing but willing to help Niall because he did care for him in a sense that he liked Niall happy. But Zayn was the reason he was like this. And the thought of talking to or seeing Zayn caused another warmth to spread itself around him. It was pleasant and cooling, in a way, and it was exciting. And he never picked up on the notion that this feeling was kind of familiar and known. It was almost like home, so stable and there and known. But now his judgement wasn't clouded and he knew. Now he _knew_.

"Lou, I think I like Zayn," he confessed when he was on his bed with his back against the headboard.

"You what?"

"Shit. I _know_ I like Zayn, it's just-- I don't know how to do this. I mean--" he stopped to lick his lips and shifted his gaze to Louis who was just gaping at him.

"Holy shit, are you for real?"

He wanted to laugh because that common phrase had his mind wiring straight to Zayn and his silent laugh and his bunched up nose when he laughed and his bright white teeth with sharp canines and eyes too gold to be real and the way he looked at Niall that always sent him inwardly spiraling out of control and now he knew why. Before he blamed it on Zayn's mature knowledge that he wasn't used to affiliating with and his way of speaking with a slow mouth and soft words that had you holding onto every last bit of his sentence. But now he thought maybe it was just him all along. 

"Does he have this effect on you where once he starts talking, you can't focus on anything else but him?" he asked abruptly. Louis blinked a few times, mouth opening to form words when Niall continued. "Or do his eyes seem a bit brighter when he's looking at you? Or is it just me?"

"I'm not sure--"

"Or does his mouth have you trapped sometimes? I thought it was just because he talks differently, you know. He just has this way of talking that drowns out the whole room."

"Niall, I--"

"There's this thing he does with me, right? And he'd poke both sides of my chest and poke my belly. And it's just this silly thing he does. But it's so endearing and sometimes I stay stuck there because I can still feel his touch. Or, like. It's still there, sometimes. And he lingers a bit, too. And he looks at me in this way. And talks. And he's so different, you know? I'm sure you know. I've never met someone like him and I've felt this way from the beginning but I never thought it was because of..."

"Of what?" Louis whispered.

"Of _this._ Because he's been on my mind for weeks and I thought it was only because I spend so much time with him and he's really unique and _gorgeous_. I always knew he was gorgeous. Brad Pitt might drool in his presence. But... But it was always something more. And I know why now. Is this all just me, Louis? Is it?"

A bird chirped outside the window.

The TV in the living room hummed in continuance.

A door slammed about two blocks away.

"Shit," Louis said. "Oh my god. You like him."

"You're joking. Please be joking."

"Niall, can you remember all you just said?"

"I mean, maybe not verbatim. But the feeling is still there, so."

"I haven't heard anyone describe someone like that in a long long time. Maybe not ever." Louis crossed his legs and bunched his hands in the space between them while his back hunched, staring at Niall with a delicate incredulous look. "I think it's just you."

"Is that bad?"

"Depends on how you look at it."

"Well can you tell me the ways I can be looking at it?"

"It can be a good thing if you're accepting your feelings and if you want to initiate something. But if you're scared shitless and have no intentions on making a move, it's going to eat you up alive."

"That doesn't make any sense."

"Hey," Louis laughed, "I didn't say love did."

"I'm not in love with him, wanker. I just like the guy, fuck."

Silence passed before Louis spoke again. "I really can't believe you like a guy. And Zayn at that. I can't say I'm surprised, but...wow, it's still a bit to take in."

"You saw this happening?"

"I know how it looks to look at someone the way you look at him. You're a bit late to be coming out now, but whatever."

"I told you I'm not gay. It's just Zayn. Ugh, his _name_ alone is affecting me!" he exclaimed and covered his face with his hands. Louis laughed and nudged his knee to tap against Niall's calf.

"Hey, there's nothing wrong with that. Zayn's an awesome guy. Anyone would fall for him. Even straight guys."

"Not funny."

"He might just feel the same."

"That didn't even cross my mind so don't plant anything in it. Besides, I'm not going to do anything about it."

"Why not?" he asked surprised.

"Do you really need an answer? He's Zayn. Zayn! The Zayn! And I'm just me. And before you get sympathetic, I'm not pitying myself nor am I asking for attention. I'm just speaking logically. I'm not bringing emotion into this and I'm not that bothered with the facts. But Zayn could have anyone he wants. I don't think he'd want anything to do with an immature arse like me."

"Zayn _could_ have anyone he wants."

"Exactly."

"And he could spend all his time with whomever he pleases."

"That, too."

"Yet he spends all his time with you."

Niall didn't have an answer. So he said the first thing that came to mind without giving his best friend eye contact. "Stop forgetting to turn on the heater. My ass was freezing this morning."

 

 

When he saw Zayn the next morning, a too bright Monday that opposed his starky timid mood, he made sure Louis was with him because _I'm not saying I'm confessing but I don't want to ruin whatever little thing we have and I need you there to warn me when I'm making more of an arse of myself than usual._ So they entered his room the usual (for Niall) half an hour earlier before his class started. Zayn was flipping through an art magazine, his worn combat boots crossed on his desk and everpresent leather jacket clinging to his shoulder blades. 

The new perspective on practically everything now had Niall stopping in his tracks because his mind wasn't foggy anymore. Zayn was _there_ , just like Zayn had always been there. And it suddenly struck him the huge impact Zayn left on his life, like an imprint across his resume for everyone to see. Zayn left a benevolent and satisfying mark on everyone. It was just that more with Niall and his stubborn feelings.

"You're making an arse outta yourself," Louis whispered in a sing song as he pushed Niall to continue. His feet worked, not on his side of the battle for the day, and he found himself standing in front of the same desk he's been standing in front of for months, but nothing compared to now. He wasn't admitting anything. But he knew. And for once he wished he was ignorant of it. _Ignorance is bliss_ , he retorted to Louis after he suggested being ignorant was only going to prolong the inevitable.

Zayn looked up at him, shuffling his magazine away and smiling at the duo in front of him. If he was surprised by Louis' presence, he didn't say. "Niall. Louis. Pleasure to see you two in my class. So stubbornly early," he joked. He was explicitly joking, and Louis knew and laughed at it, like he was supposed to. But Niall thought he was serious. And he realized how annoyed Zayn must be to have to attend to kids unnecessarily strolling in his class.

"Oh, shit. Sorry. I don't want to be a burden. I'll go," he stammered, looking down with a hand across his forehead. He turned to go when a warm hand grasped his wrist, the grip encasing him completely.

"Wait. Whoa whoa whoa. I was joking," Zayn laughed nervously, standing up from his seat to catch Niall on time. Niall faced him. Zayn searched Niall's face for something, but all he found was the blush slowly covering his face. He turned to Louis for assurance and asked, "Did I say something wrong?" before turning to the slightly shaking Niall.

"No. He's just being a wuss. I'll leave you two to solve your...problem," and Louis left. Niall turned to see his fleeing back walking in Harry's room direction. He thought of eleven ways to kill Louis and planned on sending a notice for a new best friend/flatmate. Because that was so wrong of him that Niall would've cried if Zayn wasn't walking around to stand in front of him, hand still around the pale and freckled skin of his wrist.

"What does he mean? Do we have a problem?"

"N-no, not at all. He's just being the arse he always is, I swear. I'll fuck him up later--"

"You and your mouth, _ugh_ ," he exclaimed. Niall thought he read too much into it when Zayn closed his eyes and slightly moaned at the statement because Zayn always whined about his profanity that way. Of course he would read too much.

"I'm sorry," he blurted out.

"Don't be. You'll only do it again. How was your Sunday, anyway?" He let go of his wrist to wrap one arm around the young boy's shoulders, and Niall complied with an offset one-arm hug instead of his usual bear hug that'll squeeze the air out of Zayn. Zayn felt the difference and shifted away oddly.

"My Sunday was shitty. Spent it throwing up." He forgot to filter it because he didn't think of what to say when Zayn was looking down at him with this air that he wanted Niall to talk about all he did yesterday. And Zayn always looked at him like that. But he _knew._

He knew. He knew, he knew, he knew. And that made all the difference. 

"Why were you throwing up?" he asked worriedly, placing the back of his fingers against Niall's forehead. The touch jolted something through him and he shifted his blue gaze to Zayn's golden one; concentration was matted on his forehead.

"Just upset stomach, you know." He abruptly pulled away. He felt uncomfortable. A sudden warm discomfort pooling in his chest, like liquid filling his lungs in a slow manner.

"Oh, okay," Zayn said, dropping his still extended hand. "I take that you're feeling better. I hope," he smiled expectantly. Niall nodded, shifting his mouth to form in a somewhat grin. This was absurd. All of it. He felt like this for a long time. He just needed to act normal. But it was so hard because Zayn was speaking looking directly down at him and he said something that made himself laugh, gaze turning to the side and his tongue gliding across his white teeth.

"I like your mouth," he blurted. His mother _fucking_ mouth opened without his control and Zayn looked at him with an eyebrow raised and tongue stuck midstride. "No. No, no, no. Fuck-- I didn't mean that. Your teeth," he stammered. Zayn was still looking at him, a slow smirk taking place on his face. Niall opened his mouth a few times, nothing pouring out as he struggled for words. "Your cuspids. They're sharp. That's what I meant, I swear! God, I sound stupid." He ran his fingers through his hair because Zayn still didn't react and his face didn't change.

But then, "thank you," with another swipe across his teeth, smiling the whole time.

Zayn was sitting in his desk, chatting along and Niall fixed himself on the corner of his desk where he sat every morning. He had no idea what Zayn was saying. Something about...something. He was at ease with himself, pushing the chair back, smiling the whole time, tilting his head as he gazed at Niall perched in front of him. Niall's throat felt thick because now he wanted more, just a little more. 

He felt he wouldn't mind Zayn's warm hand at the small of his back as they walked down the street to his car. He felt he wanted Zayn's steady look to last a bit longer than usual. He wouldn't mind his own lips to graze against the cheek of the man's dark stubble that will iritate the ripe skin. He wanted his lips, really. So suddenly and surprisingly. And Zayn's mouth was now parted slightly, forming a question repeatedly as skepticism shadowed his features. He still looked so appealing.

"...Ni...Ni, please tell me what's wrong?" His hand was wrapped around the skin right below Niall's pale knee, his warmth emitting through the thin fabric of the jeans. Zayn was still expecting an answer, licking his lip and scrunching his brow. He always licked his lips. Niall knew this from the sheer habit of facing him when they conversed like what normal people do. But it was too much. And his tongue left the swell of his bottom lip shining and more pink.

"I can't do this," he admitted and jumped down from the desk. Zayn said something again, but he was already out the room.

He felt Harry's stare probing him to look up. But he had a reliable gut feeling that Zayn texted him about his outburst. And that made him feel incredulously stupid and more immature than usual because Zayn was expecting him to say something. He could've just brushed it off and said he was fine or shrug his shoulders and falsely admit that the stomach virus was slightly still in his system. He instead acted like a child and a burning nerve was eating away the walls of his organs at the realization that he was going to see Zayn after school. It'll be worse if he'd commit a no-show.

His classes _draggeddddd_ and no amount of mental different scenarios or picturing Zayn's mouth in laughter was making time pass quickly. He did text Louis once, in which he received a reply stating _You were so awkward mate, im disappointed. Grow a pair!_ So texting Louis as a past time was out of the picture. Greg was working. Katie was in school. Liam was in school. His mother will scold him for texting during school. There wasn't a ball at his feet for him to kick between them. His other friends were either shits or in school, too. Harry was teaching. And Zayn.

Zayn was somewhere on the campus at this moment. Maybe chatting up a lucky bloke or girl. (He never opposed to the idea of dating a girl because _sexuality shouldn't determine who you like, Niall. It's logic and emotion in one._ And then he'd go into a deep, meaningful soliloquy of the importance of love. Or some shit like that.) The thought of Zayn with someone else was highly reasonable, Zayn was perfection on legs, and that was very unsettling for him. So unsettling, Niall squirmed in his seat and fidgeted too much to the point his professor scolded him to stop. He couldn't concentrate on anything. 

The end of the day came. The end of his little strip of sanity came with the notion of being in front of Zayn in a minute or two. He found Zayn shuffling into his leather jacket, pushing his arms through the sleeves and firming the collar to rest askew. Zayn spotted him, hand extended behind his neck still fixing the collar. Niall didn't say anything. He had what he planned to say in mind. From the beginning to the end. And now he suddenly forgot.

_Okay. It was something like... 'Sorry about earlier. I'm an arse'... No! He doesn't like when I curse. Okay. 'Hi, Zayn. I hope this morning wasn't too weird. Just trying to work through something in my head.' No no no. 'Zayn. Hi. You look lovely this afternoon.' It wasn't that. 'Zayn, man! I've been--_

"Niall, would you please talk to me? We haven't had a proper conversation since Saturday. And you were half out of it," he laughed, trying to ease the tension. It was too thick. Niall continued to stand there, taking in Zayn's apprehensive stance. He shuffled into the room, watching his hand graze the top of the desks in the middle row, leading to Zayn. He stopped a few feet in front of him.

Still looking at his pale freckled wrist, he stated, "I like a boy."

He allowed himself to look at Zayn. And Zayn looked...shocked. Negatively shocked. Bordering on mortified. It took all of Niall's control not to cry because the look on Zayn's face clearly said that he _knew_ it was him and he didn't want it to be. He didn't want him. His heart still fell a little. He made sure it was only a little. "I'm so sorry, Zayn. I didn't know until yesterday. And. And I--," he breathed, stopping himself before he made a bigger fool of himself. He went to reach for Zayn, but Zayn shifted slightly out of reach, a hand raised in caution and a timid smile on his mouth.

"No, don't apologize. It's fine. Okay? You're happy, right? That's all that matters."

Niall huffed out a puff of air in defeat. Zayn repeated himself quietly, rubbing the back of his neck. "That's all that matters." Even in this state, he was still worrying about Niall first.

"No. I'm not happy," he whimpered. He raised his hand halfheartedly before it slapped against his thigh, implying the obvious that he wasn't happy. Zayn reacted at this.

"Why?"

"Because now it's going to be awkward between us, man. That's what I was trying to avoid and this has been eating at me since yesterday."

"It won't be awkward as long as you're not awkward." He waited for Niall to nod, a frown making his mouth turn down. "Now," Zayn continued, "when do I meet this lucky bloke?" Niall closed his eyes, looking down sadly because-- wait, what. The sudden unexpected question made Niall snap his neck up to Zayn because what the _fuck._

"What?" he finally asked, not hiding the way his voice pitched a bit higher with surprise. Zayn fumbled for an answer, syllables leaving his mouth in a mess.

"Well. You know. The guy, Niall. I think it's only fair I meet the guy who grasped what I wanted for so long," he answered angrily because he felt stupid saying it out loud and the fact Niall made him say it was uncomfortable.

Niall walked up to him that his face tilted back, waiting for Zayn to stare back at him when he exclaimed, " _what!?"_

The tan man was a bit flustered, a bit embarrassed, and a bit confused. "Never mind what I said. If I can't meet him, it's fine. Really, it is. I'm sorry for--"

"You think I like someone else?" the blond asked, a smile creeping onto his face. He bit his lower lip to stop it from taking over.

Zayn was a blubbering mess. A steady "uhhhhhhhhh" was streaming from his mouth before, "did I get something wrong?"

This made Niall laugh, laugh for the first time in almost forty-eight hours because this was great. This was so great he barely stopped laughing to yell out, "oh my fuck, Here I thought it wasn't gonna work out, but...Zayn, you like me?"

Zayn squirmed at his natural forwardness, uncomfortable in this newfound habitat he never really got used it. "I thought it was made clear a long time ago," he muttered.

"But you never said it."

"It was implied numerous times."

"It needs to be smacked in my face for me to get it!" he laughed. He laughed because this was great and the feeling inside him was scary at the same time and Zayn was standing in front of him with a growing and wary smile on his face. He lunged forward and wrapped his arms tightly around Zayn's neck, feeling so _good_ and warm it would've been funny if his brain didn't just scream at him what he was doing in the middle of the room in broad daylight. It was bordering on intimate and clinging to a cliche so he backed away stiffly. He noticed the way Zayn's face slowly became a bit angry, the upturned features turning down into a scowl. "Sorry. I'm so sorry. I shouldn't have done that." Zayn didn't say anything.

Zayn yanked him forward by the collar, the blonde boy nearly tripping into arms that encased his torso. Zayn's elbows jutted into the sides of the younger boy's ribcage, his dark hands over each other behind his arched back as he bent down to finally kiss Niall. He finally had his lips pressed to the soft profanity-filled mouth of the boy in front of him. It was kind of surreal for him. It was kind of everything for Niall.

Niall didn't know what to do, but Zayn's fervent movement of lips caused his arms to take place on his shoulders. And he tilted his head to the side. It was like kissing a girl, but better. Because it was Zayn and Zayn knew what he was doing with biting Niall's lips open and having his parted lips a little away from the boy's nagging ones as his tongue explored his mouth. And he licked and bit and kissed every surface. It was so much better because Niall always had a subconscious attraction to Zayn's mouth and it was so much better than he thought and his tongue ran along Zayn's cuspids and oh my _God_ this was happening. 

"I really really like your mouth," he gasped, eyes closed and moving to kiss Zayn again when he pulled away. Zayn was laughing, teeth glowing with squinted eyes. He looked happy.

"Be specific. You said you liked a boy. I'm clearly a man."

 

 

They started right before the beginning of summer, the season of flings and temporary love nights. Zayn never admitted it, but this was a bit of a nuisance to think about. He knew Niall only meant well, and that he was really interested in him, but Zayn was in too deep for his liking. And at times it worried him if Niall actually wrapped his mind around the fact that Zayn was older and what if he thought Zayn was looking to settle down. (Not that Zayn ever implied it; he was satisfied with anything Niall gave him.) But the blond never gave an inkling if he thought such a thing.

If Niall was asked, he'd might just admit how enraptured he was himself. "Remember when you first told me about Zayn?" he had asked Louis, the both of them meeting up with Liam and a few other team members to celebrate a winning game.

"Yeah. Those were the good days, man," Louis breathed, his words coming out in a puff from the brisk cold. Niall looked at Louis from the brim of his coat, smiling.

"You never told me just how great he is."

It wasn't such a shock to Louis (at least) and Harry when they told them. It was two days after the mutual confession and Niall never got a chance to talk to Louis privately about it with him going to a game, running errands for a professor or a friend, or working extra shifts at the supermarket. They were in Harry's kitchen, getting ready for the Harry Potter marathon running on TV that Harry persisted they watched together.

Harry was stirring something on the stove, animatedly speaking of this project a student of his aced on, Louis just walked into the room from sprawling on the sofa, and Niall and Zayn were leaning against the counters, exchanging contemplating glances and mental assurances. "Um," Niall started when the room finally got quiet. He looked to Zayn who was staring back at him with that soft, silent gaze he always held towards Niall. But he knew now. And he forgot for a moment what to say. "Forget it," he laughed to the three, turning around to sit on the stool, his back to everyone. 

"Now, where's the gossip in that? Please share," Louis pleaded, sitting on the stool next to him.

"S'nothing to share, really."

"Nothing to share? Is that what you think of it?" Zayn asked, eyebrows shooting up.

" _No._ No, no, no. I don't mean it that way. I just..." he trailed, not sure how to finish because he didn't want to make it a big deal. It _was_ a big deal. A huge deal to them, at least. It was big and grand and new and though it was still early on, Niall looked forward to everyday because of him. Giving it enough thought, he always looked forward to days because of Zayn; but now he had something else to look forward to. He felt maybe Harry and Louis wouldn't care as much. Or maybe they already knew or didn't think it significant enough to share in the open. So Niall just shook his head in conclusion to his lingering statement.

"Oh, please don't be modest all of a sudden," Louis whined with a kick to Niall's shin, "it never suited you well."

"S'alright, Lou," Zayn interjected softly, always so softly and nice with that air of gratitude that had Niall leaning into Zayn at the moment. Zayn scooted closer, one elbow leaning on the counter Niall was facing while the other arm snaked around the boy's waist, bringing him closer. "If you're uncomfortable with sharing, another time will suit, right? Babe?" he expressed loud enough that the spoon in Harry's hand clanked against the metal rim of the pot. 

Zayn's smirk shifted his mouth into this smug line that Niall wanted to laugh unbelievably at. He knew Zayn was playing with him, but the warm fingers pinching at the skin of his waist, tips teasingly lifting the hem of his shirt to barely graze against the cold skin that burned under its touch, made him care a bit less. 

"Did I hear right?" Harry hushed to Louis when the younger boy squeezed himself between the tall lad and the stove, his back firm against Harry's chest as he continued to stir the edible concoction where Harry left off. 

"Yes, you heard perfectly," Zayn assured, nodding and smiling.

Louis groaned. "For the love of-- it's about time! We can only be around all the fucking sexual frustration for so long."

" _What_?" Niall coughed out the soda he was drinking, the liquid sputtering out the spaces of his fingers as he clasped a hand over his mouth. Zayn gave a napkin to him without missing a beat, turning back to Louis.

"You know," Louis sighed with an unconscious flick of the spoon towards Harry, sending drops of tomato paste to land on his hair and face. He flinched away. "All the looks and gestures and murmurs and compliments. It's about time, really."

"About time for what?" his boyfriend asked with annoyance. "What's going on?"

"These two," another flick of the spoon, dry this time, "are together."

"No. We're not together. Just..."

"Just enjoying the drive," Zayn finished. Louis turned away and muttered something under his breath along the lines of _some fucking drive that's bullshit_.

No one said anything for a while until, "Wait. You're together?!"

"I just said we're not together," Zayn informed at the same time Louis questioned, "were you that oblivious?"

"Oh my fucking-- Niall, you're straight, I don't get it!"

"Well, I'm not _gay_ , but neither can I call myself straight so..."

"So he just likes Zayn's dick."

" _Louis!_ "

"What? I'm just saying he likes your dick. Don't act so surprised."

"Babe, can you please be vague for once?" Harry said with a turn to the duo by the counter. Their faces were so red it rivaled the pot's matter. They wouldn't look at each other, embarrassed with the sudden change of subject. "Wait, they're serious?" he whispered to Louis when he turned back around.

"Would I really be joking?" Zayn huffed. 

"I mean. I guess not. But," he looked between them, Niall's shoulder was pressed into Zayn's chest who hunched over the young boy, both staring at Harry. "Okay, um. Well! I think this calls for a celebration!" he beamed and opened cupboards, looking for a bottle of some type of alcohol.

"A celebration?" Zayn questioned.

"Yes. Celebration. Niall joined the gay wagon--"

" _Hey!_ "

"--and you're finally in a relationship. Believe me, young dick is great, man."

Zayn sputtered a few syllables, unsure how to respond and face fading red before, "you're no better than Louis!"

"So much for the threesome," Louis pouted. His boyfriend wiggled his hips, bumping into him.

"What about a foursome?"

Little chortles of laughter spilled from Niall, making his eyes reduce to slits. It was either laugh or make a fool out of himself from embarrassment. Zayn just looked down at him, letting the warmth inside of him flow willingly.

 

 

The summer was great for Zayn. It was hesitant for Niall.

He never knew what to do. He didn't know how relationships worked, only used to meeting the person and forgetting about them the moment they walked out the door the next morning. But it was different with Zayn. And sometimes Niall said something without a thought, thinking it wasn't appropriate but the smile on Zayn's face said otherwise.

A few weeks later, sitting on the steps outside the music museum Zayn brought him to, Niall scuffled the toe of his sneaker against Zayn's jean-clad thigh to annoy him. It made the tan man smile down at his food because he knew this. Niall continued to do this, rubbing dirt on the material. "You should really stop that."

"But you're not looking at me. I want your attention."

"You have my undivided attention," Zayn said, wiping a napkin over his mouth and turning to fully face Niall. His back was against a column of the building and his shoe was still on his leg.

"I made it past the third date with you," he said. He waited a few seconds for a response that never came so he shrugged his shoulders, acting nonchalant while pulling his foot back towards him. When he looked up at Zayn, his face held no emotion, his mouth was blank, and the only change was the wind whispering through his black hair. Then he lit up a little, a smile taking place on one corner.

"C'mere," he muttered. And when Niall shuffled forward, Zayn threw an arm around his shoulers and grabbed his face with the other hand, surprising Niall with a kiss that held the response Niall was looking for.

Not too long after that, he mixed a CD of tracks that made him think of Zayn. And when he presented it to Zayn, he gave a reason for why he chose each song.

" _Teenage Dream_ because, you know, you make me feel like I'm living a teenage dream. Boyce Avenue's version since it's manlier. And yes, I'm the man in the relationship." (Zayn scoffed.)

"[ _Out of My League_](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=I-QmZpLWjHc) because you are really out of my league. And shut up before you object." (Zayn scoffed again, endearingly.)

"[ _Your Song_](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=13GD78Bmo8s) because I can play it on guitar. And Elton's gay, too! So, yeah. I thought it was appropriate." (Zayn barely managed to suppress a chuckle because Niall was visibly going through it trying to explain each song.)

"[ _Chokehold_](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=D0s06Hw2xL4). Um. I think it's self-explanatory."

" _[Fine By Me](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rplmd1afK5U). _ Isn't it a great song?"

" _[Something Good Can Work](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Wxu02vp_Vm0). _ Again, I'm the man. And-- why are you laughing at me?" he pouted. Zayn grabbed the CD off of him.

"You're having a difficult time explaining this to me."

"No, m'not. I just feel like telling you why I picked each song."

"Why is this hard to explain?" he continued. Niall huffed.

"Because... Because I don't want to say anything wrong."

"Baby, why would you think that way?" he murmured, lifting Niall's chin with the tip of his index finger.

"I don't know how to do this." Zayn didn't need to question what he meant. He pushed Niall's cheeks in, making his lips push out and bunch together.

"Repeat after me: I'm doing fine."

"N'doing fon."

"And I'm not going to worry."

"Thith iz ztupid."

"You're perfect."

Niall pushed Zayn's hand away, looking at him and repeating, "you really are perfect."

"That wasn't for you to repeat." He shifted the CD in his hand for the light to reflect all over its purple and glittery surface. "Are you sure you weren't gay before?" he joked.

"I told you, I'm just very comfortable with my sexuality," he grumbled. His chin was resting on Zayn's shoulder, knuckles brushing against his leather jacket.

"I know, babe. I'm kidding," he began before turning to look down at the boy perched on his side, eyebrow lifted in confirmation, "you know, I knew you would soon become...attracted to someone of your sex. I didn't think it'd be me, but I hoped."

"Really?" he asked in disbelief. His mouth formed a perfect O and his cheeks were everpresent that mild shade of pink, emphazing the clearness of his eyes. He was so beautiful, and he didn't know it. "How did you know?" he continued when Zayn still didn't say anything.

"It's just something I can pick up. I knew Harry was gay before I officially met him. And I knew Louis and him were involved by the little remarks and details he gave of him."

"Oh," he said with fascination, getting ready to leave the car. He promised a coworker to take his shift and Zayn dropped him off after taking him to the cinema. "The last track is from Dave Matthews Band. You might remember me playing it once. I like to think that's our song." He already had his coat on, one hand on the handle.

"Why is it our song?"

"It's the first song I played directed to you. S'nothing big, really. If you don't like it, I'll pick another song. Or you can."

"It's fine, calm down." He brushed away the blonde strands of hair on his forehead, thumb holding them down at his hairline and said, "I'll text you later, okay? Now go before you're late," with a kiss on the exposed skin between his eyebrows.

They just finished watching _Pacific Rim_ and Niall was laying on his back on top of Zayn, his head on a warm chest and lower body bracketed by legs clothed in faded black sweats. He was beating a rhythm on the elevated knees in front of him when he blurted, "do you ever think we were meant to meet?" Zayn kind of shifted under him, and Niall felt the slight stutter of his heart.

"Like what?" he asked, thinking that Niall was finally going to say it.

But Niall interpreted his reactions differently. _Like Harry and Louis_ , he thought. "Like me and Louis," he said. Zayn ran his hands down Niall's bare arms before squeezing the top of them.

"Of course," he answered, kissing the brown roots of hair facing him.

But besides these minor heart attacks, Niall couldn't enjoy himself even more if he tried.

It was a late Saturday night, or early Sunday morning. The street was asleep and a streetlamp was blinking in front of Niall's flat. Zayn had him pinned to the wall, kissing Niall teasingly. He would firm his lips against the rapidly breathing boy's before shifting them to the side, making Niall chase his mouth. One inked forearm was propped on the wall above the blonde hair, the other hand's nails digging into the bare pale skin of his lowerback.

Times like this amazed Niall because Zayn was so good at this. It left Niall pliant and immobile for a short time and all he was able to do was breathe heavily as Zayn licked into his mouth and bit his raw, ripe lips, the plush flesh being stretched to its limit as Zayn's teeth pulled on it. "Your fucking teeth," he moaned, finding the strength to push his fingers into black kempt hair, ruining its fixed pose, and tugging him to press fully against his body. His overworked tongue skimmed over the sharp canines. Zayn laughed into his mouth, pushing Niall away softly with a hand on his cheek.

"You have a weird fetish."

"You have vampire teeth. That's hot."

"And so the lion fell in love with the lamb," he uttered. His heart then stopped, the words processing in his head.

"Don't make fun of _Twilight_ ," Niall laughed, "it's a great movie." Zayn moved a bit back to gaze at Niall, the blinking light casting his face in darkness for a few seconds then light for the same amount of time. His cheeks were more blushed than normal, his lips were thick and bruised, shining with saliva Zayn couldn't tell from who, and his eyes were ice blue and emulating the artificial light flashing. Niall looked a bit dazed, and his hand was stealthfully running down the metal clasp of his belt buckle. Zayn caught it right before it made contact with the bulge he was mentally forcing to go down.

"I wasn't making fun of it," he spoke, thanking every god he could think of that Niall didn't pick up on the implication of his words. But he did. And later that night, when he was already under blankets and reading the latest of Markus Zusak, a notification lit up his phone screen. A text reading: _Wat a stupid lamb_

_And u wonder why i think youre gay, im not citing the movie._

_Idiot,_ Niall replied. Zayn was in the middle of typing out a question to the laconic text when Niall sent another message. 

 _Im in love wit you too_.

Zayn might've counted ten or fifteen heartbeats that he just viewed the message over and over again, before: _Wat a sick masochistic lion._

_Idiot xx_

Since then, Niall threw the L word almost all the time and almost everywhere. They were in the supermarket Louis worked in, wondering what pizza they should bake that night at Niall's place. "I love you," he breathed, nonchalantly picking up a frozen box reading the special of four cheeses.

Zayn was putting together a buraeu Niall bought for his room. Niall was too lazy to do it, instead eating crisps during a game of FIFA while begging Zayn to just drop it and play with him. "If I don't do it, you're not going to."

"Louis will do it."

"For some reason, that scares me."

"I love you," he retorted around a mouthful of food.

Zayn brought Niall to his house for the first time. He forgot his shorts for the hike Niall begged him to join and the young man was also begging him to just grab a pair from his house besides buying a new one. "We're just stopping to grab a pair. That's it," he authorized, his tone making it clear there will be no frolicking or time to initiate anything. He was already accustomed to Niall insinuating a date where they'll be reserved and away from a large number of people and knew when he was seconds away from trailing his hand down the front of his jeans. 

They were parked in front of an elaborate single home, too grand for what Niall was used to. "Come on," Zayn said, holding Niall's door open. "You live here?" he breathed, following Zayn inside. 

"Um, yes?" He opened the door, allowing Niall to enter first. "I'll be right back. Stay right _here_. I'm not kidding."

"I'm not going to follow you. At least give me a kiss," he pleaded. Zayn pursed his lips, eyebrows scrunching in confusion. "Just one. Please."

Zayn huffed before kissing the eager boy, firming his lips before backing away quickly, too aware of Niall's motives of distraction. "Stay here." Then he left. Niall stuck true to his words, he wasn't going to follow him. He merely walked the other direction, coming face to face with the kitchen. A kitchen that might have been the same size as his kitchen, living room, and dining room combined. 

The cabinets were black and steel, an island in the middle made of a stark yellow material with the same steel appliances. It branched out into a dining room, one of the two. This was the bigger one, two glass sliding doors on the left wall of the room, giving a view of an acre or two of flat spring grass. An underground pool took up space in the upper right corner and trees aligned the whole land. He shifted his gaze to the kitchen where two living rooms occupied the space ahead of it, separated by a wall down the middle, each with its own flat screen and one held a fireplace. The smaller dining room jutted out of the one he was in now. The floors were a chestnut polished wood. Windowpanes white and sofas a deep red that complimented the pale cream and olive green of the plush pillows and curtains. 

"I said to stay where you were," Zayn broke his trance from behind him.

"Your house is beautiful," Niall said, snaking an arm around the tan man's waist, still eyeing his surroundings.

"Thank you."

"No. Like, your house is _beautiful_. Abnormally-beautiful. Expensive-beautiful. Zayn-beautiful."

"You're cheesy. My family has money. I invest in it. I treated myself to this house."

"Yes, you did."

"Can we go now?"

"I love you." Niall looked up, his head lolling back against Zayn's shoulder. "Really, I do." 

"I know. I love you, too," he confirmed, brushing his lips against the pair below him, "let's go waste precious time walking up unstable surfaces."

"Idiot," Niall said affectionately.

One day, Niall and Louis participated in a local charity football game. They won because Josh was able to pass the ball between an opponent's legs, Liam stopping the ball with the side of his ankle and kicking it to Dan before the other team member connected with it. And he kicked it through the goalie's spaced arms, the net jutting out with the impact.

They were sweaty and stained green with grass and they leaped towards each other, exclaiming at the top of their lungs as their team piled on top of them. Harry dropped Louis and Harry home, both fighting for the shower. Niall lost, resulting in having to take a quick shower. "You're a real dick for wasting the hot water, you know," he scolded while entering the living room where Harry and Louis were debating which video game to play. Zayn was sat on the farthest side of the sofa, already standing up to walk towards him. "Oh. Hey, baby," Niall greeted. Zayn looked a little deflated.

"I'm so sorry I didn't make it. I had to do something for my father. I swear it was really important."

"It's fine," he smiled. He just wanted to kiss Zayn so he leaned up to do just that when Zayn pulled away.

"I'm serious. I almost cursed him out because I wanted to be there."

"Whoa, slow down, bad boy. It's not a big deal," Niall laughed because since meeting Zayn he probably heard him curse once or twice, and it was only when he was mocking him.

"I made you dinner," Zayn said.

"You did?" he beamed. "Great. I'm starving. Let's get out of here."

"Should Harry and Louis come?"

"No, no, no. They're bad company."

"I heard that."

"You were supposed to, Haz."

"Only I call him that," Louis retorted. Niall turned to Zayn, ignoring him.

"Come on. Please? I'm really starving." Zayn gave him the kiss before they left.

So they were in Zayn's smaller dining room where it was secluded and more intimate. Zayn almost spat out his wine with laughter at Niall's exaggerated and animated stories of players' moves from the game earlier in the day. They were half done their meal, the remaining meat, potatoes and vegetables pushed around the plate. Niall continued to watch Zayn, the way his laugh came out silent and his back hunched from uncontrollable fits of chuckles. His nose bunched up, revealing white teeth framed with dark pink lips colored from the red drink. Niall sat up from his seat, walking to Zayn until he pushed back his chair and allowed Niall to sit on his lap. "Oh god, that was fun _ny,_ " he continued, the last syllable stretched with his continuing amusement. He finally sighed, letting his head fall back to look at the boy on his lap.

"I want to suck your dick." This time he almost coughed out his wine.

" _Wh-at?_ " he said in between coughs.

"You cooked for me. I think you should get something in return."

"I didn't cook dinner for you to think you owe me anything."

"I know, but I want to." He slid down his lap, knees hoisting himself up on the floor. His hands gripped Zayn's knees, spreading his legs.

" _Niall_."

"What!? I'm sober, we're alone, and I love you. Why not?"

"You've never given a blowjob before."

"So how am I supposed to learn if you don't let me?" Zayn didn't respond. "I can ask someone else."

"No." Niall lowered his face towards Zayn's crotch, looking up at him. "Maybe Louis or Harry. I'm sure they won't mind. Or both at the same time."

" _No._ "

"You know I'm playing," he groaned. "Come on, please. I'll let you lead. Obviously since I don't know how to do this." Zayn looked down at him. Niall's face was tilted to the side, his eyelashes fanned below his eyebrows, mouth open _right_ above his member.

"Okay," he squeaked, nodding briskly. Then he closed his eyes and huskly exhaled. "Okay."

Niall averted his gaze, dropping it to the growing bulge of jeans in front of him. He unconsciously breathed out on it, making it visibly twitch through the material. "Okay," he muttered to himself, unbuckling, unbuttoning, unzipping. He pulled away both pieces of clothing in one go, swallowing when the member slapped up against the clenched lower abs. "Holy shit," he whimpered, face momentarily crumbling in fear before Zayn reasoned, "you don't have to do this."

"Just shut up and tell me what to do."

"You know what," Zayn started, gripping the arms of the chair to stand up and move away when Niall gripped the base of him, a bit too tightly.

"You're not going _anywhere_ so stop," he whined. Zayn whined in response at the contact. "What do I do?"

"You can just give me a handjob, you know," he moaned, too submerged in the heat pooling in his dick. His head fell back against the chair and he forced his hips to stay still, his hands squeezing the armchairs till his veins popped up on the tight skin. Niall moved his hand up and down a little, only covering the bottom inches of his cock. He shuddered when Niall's wet tongue grazed his head.

"You don't taste that bad." An inhale popped in his lungs at the words. "I like it, actually," he continued, as if this was everyday conversation. Zayn couldn't handle him.

He fixed his open mouth just atop his cock's head, letting spit trail down the corners so it can be slick and wet. His heart felt like it was beating in his throat and he wanted to throw up from the nerves pinching every surface of his skin. He breathed out hotly to calm himself, unaware of its effect on Zayn who groaned and squeezed his eyes shut. 

He also closed his eyes before firming his lips around the head, sucking in time to the push and pull of his hand smothering the saliva equally. This alone stressed his jaw because he had to open his mouth wide around the width, making sure his teeth didn't make contact. He knew it felt good when the slit was teased so he slid his tongue through it and pumped his hand faster as he lowered his mouth. He stopped right before he gagged and sucked harshly. And when he pulled back he sucked his cheeks in to make the glide tighter. Zayn's whimper of encouragement caused him to hum, basking in the fact his first time wasn't that bad. If Zayn's trembling hips were anything to go by.

Spit continued to exit his mouth and he bobbed his head sucking tightly going up and licking the vein on the underside while going down. He popped off and thumbed the head, flattening his tongue at the base, pressing hard against it while going up. When he wrapped his mouth around it, he chanced a look up at Zayn. His chest was stuttering for breath and his jaw was slack, pupils dilated and lips a sinful red from being bitten to suppress moans. Niall went down, sucking harshly without breaking eye contant. Zayn's hips bucked up, the head forcing its way through his throat. He gagged, back hunching and eyes screwing shut as he moved away with a gasp. "You can't do that."

"Sorry sorry, I just-- don't stop," he whimpered, sounding close to tears. Niall went back down, bobbing slowly while Zayn's hand grabbed his hair on both sides. "Jesus Christ," he moaned, rolling his hips up and feeling the back of his throat again. He felt Niall's fingers dip into his legs in protest and Zayn pulled him off with as close to an apologetic look he could muster from drowing neck-deep in lust. "I'm sorry. I-I'm not like this, I swear."

"Just don't be rough, okay?" Niall's offer clicked in his mind and he couldn't nod quick enough.

"Okay." Niall lowered himself again, one hand circling the base while he mouthed down a third of the length. Zayn rolled his hips up again slowly, mouth popping in an O while steady moans rolled out. Niall screwed his eyes shut, expanding his throat when the head partially made contact with it. His back was fixed into a permanent hunch with each thrust into his mouth and blood pooled in his dick and ears. "Just look at yourself," Zayn groaned, watching the top half of his dick dick disappear into the boy's mouth and appear more wet than it was before. Niall tightened his lips at one thrust, sucking to the beat and giving off an unplanned moan because though he was on the giving end of the bargain, it felt so good to please Zayn and he wouldn't admit it, but allowing Zayn to use him made him so horny he couldn't help rubbing his palm fervently against himself. 

Pushing Niall all the way down softly that his nose touched his groin, his lips fully covered his dick and it made him gag loudly, clenching his eyelids tighter and if that wasn't so fucking _hot._  He pulled Niall away harshly, grabbing his dick with one hand and pumping. His other hand was still in his hair and Niall's eyes closed and his mouth was slack, croaky moans pouring out as he got his dick out and pumped into oblivion. Zayn came a few seconds before Niall, a groan scratching out his lungs. He was able to see Niall's face when he came. His body tensed right before and his eyebrows scrunched down in the middle, mouth open in a pout and eyes clenched shut. Barely a noise escaped, just a shudder of breath as he came down from his high. After a few moments of catching his breath, he opened his eyes to find Zayn staring down at him. "Creep," he croaked.

"I love you," he expressed, his tone bordering on desperation because he was too in love with the boy for his own good. And it wasn't because of the blowjob. It had nothing to do with it at all. It was everything else. Every single thing. It kind of scared him.

"I love you, too," he smiled. He looked down and put his softening dick inside, hissing from the sensitive contact before fixing Zayn up, putting him away and fastening the zipper, buttons, and buckle. He stood up on wobbly legs, gripping the table's edge for support. 

When he blinked, his eyelashes clumped together with a thick liquid that ran down the side of his face. "Did you just..." he trailed, pressing his middle and ring finger against the mess, pulling back to find semen on the fingertips. He began laughing. "No, you didn't," he exclaimed.

Zayn stuttered, "I'm sorry. I-I didn't even think-- I just--"

"It's fine," he sighed. He hesitated, poking his tongue out and barely licking the substance. Simmering the taste for a moment, he commented, "it just tastes like your dick. Is it always like that?"

"Oh my _G_ _od_ ," Zayn wrung out. His heart quickened its pace and he feared his eyes would dry out from being exposed too long without closing them. Niall didn't pay mind to his reactions.

"That was fun. Can we do it again later? You're giving me a blowjob next, though." He grimaced at the soreness and raw exposure of his throat as he tried to swallow. 

"I _love_ you," Zayn repeated. Niall laughed down at him since he was still sitting down.

"I love you, too," he laughed. "Are we boyfriends yet?" he continued. Zayn laughed, standing up to gather Niall in his arms.

"You're unbelievable." That was an answer in itself.

"I didn't like you at first," Niall said, stuffing his mouth with the vanilla ice cream Zayn retrieved to soothe his throat. They were in Zayn's living room, the one with the fireplace, and Big Bang Theory was airing. He gave Niall a handjob instead, the younger boy laying  on his chest and his legs between his, one hand against his heart and the other fisting his dick rapidly. He cherished the quickening heartbeat under his palm and the way Niall's back arched with moans ripping its way out.

"You what?"

"Well. I actually hated you, if I'm honest."

"You hated me?"

"Yeah, man," another spoon of ice cream, "I actually couldn't stand you for shit."

"Are you serious?"

"I was close to wanting to kill you. Wrap my hands around your neck and all." He was intently reading the carton's label in front of him when Zayn's cry of " _Niall_ " woke him. "What?" he asked, clearly confused.

"You hated me _that_ much?"

"Yeah. But. S'no big deal, babe." He got up from the seat across Zayn to sit fully on his lap, earning a grunt to pass the older boy's mouth from the sudden weight droped on his thighs. Niall curved his fingers to scratch the hair behind Zayn's ear. The tan man leaned into the touch, closing his eyes and breathing evenly.

"Why did you hate me?"

"That whole shit with Louis and you."

"Do you need to curse?"

"Fuck yeh, I do."

"You're insufferable."

"You love me." He placed a dallop of ice cream on Zayn's nose to lean down and lick it off with the flat of his tongue. Zayn's eyes dilated under him, air getting stuck in his throat.

"Don't do that," he said seriously." Niall ignored him, paying more attention to his dwindling supply of frozen dessert.

"You know. I haven't fucked since, like. A few weeks before we started. So I'm kind of deprived. Would you let me fuck you?"

"Absolutely not."

"It's your fault I haven't had sex in a while."

"I just gave you a handjob!"

"Well, now I want a blowjob and I want to fuck."

"Do you really want a blowjob?" he said, a hand finding its way to the front of Niall's shorts before Niall pushed it off, entwining their fingers.

"No," he sighed, "I just. Want to be with you. I don't know if I'm ready for. _You_. To fuck-- you know, _me._ I don't think..." he trailed, not bothering to finish the statement nor the ice cream he placed on the coffee table in front of him. Zayn spoke softly, touching his pale elbow lightly with the pad of his fingers.

"I don't expect you to be ready and I'm not rushing you for anything, Niall. You know that."

"I do," Niall nodded. He averted his gaze to the floor and curled himself into a ball to fit in the limited space of Zayn's arms. His chest was warm against his shoulder and his inked arms cocooned him. "You make me feel like a girl."

"How's that?"

"I feel giggly when I'm with you. Like, right now. And I understand what girls mean when they say their heart skips a beat. Because sometimes I feel like mine does and then I get scared because that's biologically unhealthy--" Zayn couldn't help but chuckle at this point, facing the ceiling as his hands smoothed down the hem of Niall's shirt "--but it's a good health risk. And I feel safe. And I don't ever want to leave." He chanced a glance up at Zayn who was still staring at the ceiling and kissed his exposed jawline. "I don't ever want to leave," he repeated.

"You don't have to. You don't ever have to," he whispered, craning his neck to look down at Niall. He kissed him fully, pushing his lips to mold with the other pair before breaking it to only have their mouths align perfectly against each other. But then Zayn started laughing, fits of air escaping his lips and hitting Niall's. "That Louis-dilemma bothered you that much?" he continued to chortle. Niall just groaned, burying his face in the jumping chest.

Uni was a handful of weeks away, the days quickly slipping out the spaces between the figurative's fingers. Niall was still drunk on happiness. Everything vibrated and thrived with this warm glow of euphoria. It was all Zayn's doing.

"Didn't I say I was going to hook you up with someone?" Louis loudly joked, taking credit for Niall and Zayn's romance. He passed by Niall in the kitchen who was on skype with Zayn, the phone propped in front of a soda can to give Zayn the view of Niall working amongst appliances. He was trying to cook a difficult dish and found any excuse to contact Zayn who was away on a visit to see his family. He could've merely looked up the directions online. 

He ignored Louis and grabbed the cup of a thick warm liquid besides the bowl of cooked rice. "What's that?" Zayn asked perplexed. He wore a loose grey tank top, one of Niall's snapbacks fixed backwards on his head.

"Miso soup?" Niall questioned, raising the cup to his nose to smell before nodding. "It's miso," he confirmed, pouring it onto the cooked grain with one hand and using the other to grab a beer from the fridge.

Zayn tensed, uttering, "wait. No. I think you drink that." Niall realized Zayn was talking when he heard a continuance of, "you drink it. You drink it. Babe, you drink it." But by then the substance was already covering the dish.

"Oh," Niall uttered, looking between his boyfriend and the food before shrugging. "It goes to the same place, right?" he yelled around a mouthful of food. He placed the food and drink on the table and went back to retrieve his phone, using the faux flowerpot as a pedestal. The whole time, Zayn was laughing at Niall's rashness.

"God, I miss you already," he managed to squeeze through the chuckles. The blond frowned a bit, calculating the number of days until Zayn got back.

"It's been three days, babe," he whispered. 

"Is that it? It seems longer to me." 

"Yeah, me too. I'll have your favorite song playing when I pick you up at the airport, okay? Or maybe I'll play it for you while you're getting checked."

"I'll have something for you, too. It's a surprise, though."

"You know how I feel about surprises," he whined. 

"Which is exactly why I will continue to have as many as possible for you."

"You're evil."

"You love it."

"I really really do."

When Niall picked him up on the arrival date, a luggage of Zayn's was longer than the rest, rectangular and boxy with sharp edges, wrapped in suspicious green wrapping paper. When they arrived at Zayn's house, he silently handed it to Niall. And he opened it to find the acoustic guitar he was pining over the internet a few weeks prior the departure. It was the exact same shade of blue, signed by John Mayer, even customized with a _For Niall, you'll never be too young and you'll never get old enough_ message in the same scrawl of his favorite artist. His throat closed on him for a moment when he tried to gather the right words to say. "How did you--"

"I heard you complaining to Louis about a guitar you'd have to save a salary or two to afford. Got in contact with Louis. He gave me the details and," he waved a hand at the instrument in front of them. His chest flattened against Niall's back and he rested his head on the boy's shoulder. One hand squeezing his waist, the other was still in midair gesturing to the present. He felt Niall release a shaky breath and he turned slowly to wrap his arms around the man clad in leather. "Niall, are you okay?"

"Zayn," he started, his voice muffled by the black jacket, "I can't tell you enough how thankful I am. I'm shaking right now," he laughed. He really was. Zayn stretched his hands to cover the majority of Niall's back and he felt the slight tremors radiate through his body.

"You really are shaking, baby. What's the matter?" Niall tightened his hold on Zayn's middle, burying his face deeper into the rough fabric.

"I love you. I really really love you and nothing's wrong." He pulled away to look up at him, a soft smile expressing the feelings he couldn't put in words. "I don't know how to repay you. Fuck, I'll never be able to repay you. I don't even think I can take this. Maybe--"

" _Hey_. I made sure it was customized just for you. This is not going to fit anyone else."

"There's many Nialls out there."

"There's only one you."

"You're cheesy."

"And you're worth it." He lifted Niall's chin with two fingers, letting a moment of interrupted eye contact. He breathed out steadily and noticed the blues in Niall's eyes gave an illusion of movement. "If I have a little bit of extra money lying around, I'll do what I want with it. And I also bought you a few albums from this instrumental rock band I found. It'll show you not to make fun of my music."

"Little bit of money, my ass," was Niall's response.

"I will put you over my knee."

"Kinky, Zayn," he whispered, a smirk playing on his face. A sudden memory sat in Zayn's mind at the similar words used a long time ago.

"You have no idea," he voiced in a low, scratchy tone.

"Is this the part where we fuck?" Niall anticipated. Zayn swallowed, shaking the thoughts away.

"No. This is the part where you accept the gift without complaint."

"I'll give you a blowjob."

"Deal."

" _The_ Malik Industry?" Niall asked for the third time. Zayn laughed incredulously, a bit uncomfortable. "Yes, that one. Really, it's no big deal."

"No big-- Are you kidding me?"

"Niall, please. It's nothing."

"You're a fucking multi-millionaire!"

Zayn just finished telling Niall about his trip, what it was for, whom he met, and along with the discussed events, questions grew from Niall. _Why were you meeting people? Why does it sound so serious? What does your dad do?_ Et cetera, et cetera. Zayn informed him that his father was the founder of an establishment that created pristine mobile vehicles. About a quarter of the world population possessed one because of its rarity and quality. Each was made customarily, and it was a company of cars that rivaled Lamborghinis. And based on statistics, would shoot to the safest and most luxurious car company in less than five years from now. 

"Correction," Zayn interrupted Niall's mental rant, "my father is."

"I haven't even came across someone who owns a Noble. Ever. Not even someone who _knows_ someone else remotely close to buying one," he exclaimed, awe clear in his voice. "And why the name Noble?" he continued. Zayn shrugged, looking down at his hands that flattened themselves around Niall's waist who sat on his lap.

"My mum's name is Trisha which means noble, so. Yeah, he wouldn't have it any other way."

"How did it all get so _big_?"

"Well, humbly speaking, my father's very intelligent. Built his first vehicle at five with a broken microwave and a few rubber bands. Word got around quickly, he met the right people and by the time he was your age, he was very settled and on his own. Bit of a story, I know," he muttered, paying more attention to the program on TV than the conversation now. Niall grumbled on top of him, shifting his weight for Zayn to focus on him again. The sudden movement caused a huff of air to escape him and he tightened his grip on his waist, staring up at him. "Yes?"

"Don't you get some of the profit?"

"Hm. Yes, I do."

"So why are you here?"

"Excuse me?"

"I don't mean it that way, sorry. More, like. If you have the money to be anywhere, doing anything, what made you choose here?" Processing the question in his head, Zayn stared up at Niall, gnawing on his bottom lip.

"I had all the money to do what I wanted with it, so I did." Niall continued to press on him the fact that he settled _here_ , when he could be in the Alps or somewhere in Brazil or in somewhere in Rome or Italy where art is cherished and valued daily. But he was here, and he couldn't help the questions coming out of his mouth. His questions made Zayn squirm from under him, making him uncomfortable and slightly on edge. He felt judged under Niall's prawning eye, but in actuality, Niall was geniunely intrigued at Zayn's choices because his acts were so humble and ordinary when he could've been on top of the world. He was interested in how Zayn worked and what or who influenced him to be the way he was; never before had Niall met someone so giving and modest and he was filled with so much adoration he couldn't help but smile throughout his dialogue. He loved loved _loved_ him and wanted to know what made such a beautiful human being.

After a moment, he laughed. "I just don't get it. You're here. And you could be anywhere."

"Yeah, and I'm happy here. I don't regret a thing." He grabbed the remote to change the channel but Niall was there again, innocently blocking him.

"Why?" he asked breathlessly. "Why?" he asked again when Zayn looked up at him disbelievingly. Zayn thought the answer was evident, clear as water, but blinking his eyes a few times, he still found Niall staring down at him, waiting for an answer to solve the mystery before throwing another sack of questions on him.

"Because..." he trailed.

"Because?"

"Because you're here."

Niall didn't have a question to ask. He felt pleasantly and overwhelmingly deflated at the moment. All the adoration Zayn casually put out there made him feel weightless, like poking a balloon and watching it lose all the air slowly. It was unsettling, how much Zayn meant to him at the moment. And he couldn't help but frown a little at him; he had nothing to offer. And Zayn had it all, and was here with _him._ He didn't get sad, specifically. More, a little bothered. Like, he was out of his league, which he knew from the beginning. He knew Zayn loved him, he knew Zayn adored him so he needn't question if it was requited or not. But he couldn't help but question why was it _him_ who Zayn fell for. Zayn could really have anyone, any single one. Whether it be from his appearance that stopped girls in their track when he walked by, or his genuine philanthropic ways and soft spoken understanding with just a gaze or smile, or his abnormal talent to find art in everything and his view that there was something good in everything; there was a trait in him that would have anyone wanting to have at least a first date or first kiss with him. Something they'll have to think about for years or when they need just one uplifting through their day, because Zayn had that ability. He just had this special thing where everything seemed better around him. Niall knew all of this. And staring down at Zayn, all the thoughts and realizations caused a tender gasp to release from him. 

Zayn was staring at him this whole time, his brow curling in skepticism. "Baby, are you okay?"

"Why me?" he asked, a sad note in his tone. He wasn't sad, but he was in a powerful, placid state and it took energy just to form the words.

"Niall, what does that mean?"

"It means I love you. I'm in love with you and I'm sure everyone is in love with you, and you chose me, when you could have anyone." Zayn didn't reply, only stared back at him. Niall continued. "You're by far the greatest thing to happen to me. And I've never been in love before, but I know I'll never love someone else again. Because if we ever break up, I'll compare everyone to you and no one will ever come close to how amazing you are."

"Baby, what brought this on?" he whispered.

"I don't think you know just how great of a person you are."

"I'm just human, babe."

"You're so much more. And I hope you never stop loving me. I don't think I'll want to be around after that." Zayn sat up in his seat and flattened his back against the back of the sofa. He cupped Niall's cheek with one hand, the soft pad of his thumb skimming down his freckled skin.

"Please don't talk like this. It's scaring me."

"M'not leaving. I just hope you don't mind that I never want to." Zayn laughed gently, his eyes crinkling up in the act as he cupped both sides of his face.

"No. No, I don't mind at all."

"I want to kiss you now. So stop talking."

"You're the one who start--" Niall shushed him with clasping his mouth over his. In the middle of stating something, Zayn's mouth was already open so he ran his tongue across the slick flesh behind his bottom lip. It slotted into his mouth and he used this opportunity to bite roughly on it, making the older man groan in surprise. This was new territory for them, Niall controlling, leading where they went. Zayn's hand spanned up his back of his shirt, stopping at the shoulders to press him against his chest. Tilting his head to the side, Niall sat across his lap facing him, caging his body to the sofa with knees on either side of his hips. One hand squeezing the back of the sofa, he used the other hand to push Zayn's head against it, causing a gasp from Zayn and a tight grip on the shoulder blades. Niall pulled back with the sound of lips parting echoing through the room. His blonde disheveled hair casting a shadow across half his face, he huffed out a shuddering breath and grabbed Zayn's hands to roam down his body, down, down, down, till they shaped the curve of his arse. His tan fingers being forced to squeeze the flesh, Zayn's mouth went slack as he stared up at Niall, the shadow over his face making the blue thin circle of his irises vibrate with illuminance. "Niall--"

"Shh," he forced, his eyes fluttering closed at the hot feeling of Zayn's hands on him. His pale hands were still over the older man's, and he squeezed them again, alighting another jolt of unfamiliar pleasure to course through him. "Holy shit," he moaned, taken aback by the feeling. Zayn then solely gripped him firmly and Niall's hands flew to grasp the inked wrists behind him. "Oh _G_ _od_ , do that again," he pleaded. Zayn obeyed, pulling him down to sit atop his cock that sparked up from watching Niall get hard from the act alone.

"You like this?" he whispered into Niall's throat that was in his view. He suppressed a groan, Zayn's hands continuosly squeezing him. "This turns you on?" he asked, honestly intrigued, pulling him more down and raising his hips up simultaneously. He saw Niall's adam's apple bob as he swallowed, forcing incoherent words to come out.

"I didn't-- I don't think-- not before, no. I--" his tone rose at the end when Zayn pierced his two fingers between the cheeks, the tips barely grazing his hole. " _Zayn_ ," he yelled and brought his hands to clutch at Zayn's hair, almost ripping strands in the process as he pushed back into Zayn's hands.

"Niall," he groaned, the slight pain atop his head only making his dick twitch.

"Zayn, I don't-- know what's gotten over me, but," he squeezed his eyes shut and put one hand on his dick for some type of pressure. And it clicked in Zayn's mind what was happening.

"Niall, I don't think--"

"No," he whimpered and rubbed against Zayn to get him to change his mind. "Please don't do this to me." Zayn opened his mouth to object when Niall rushed out and said, "I don't care. I really don't. You can. Do whatever you want with me. I took a shower and shaved before coming and everything." Zayn's mouth was still open, so he continued. "I know what I'm doing. I asked Louis for tips and I really really want this," he breathed. He wiggled up until Zayn's dick was right behind him and rubbed down roughly, his cock settling between his bum so perfectly, Zayn felts his balls at the base of his dick. Noticing Zayn's resistance shattering so quickly by the way his dick flushed with heat against him and his stare became hooded and lazy, he whispered against his ear," I'll let you mark me everywhere. Can leave bruises for everyone to see." 

" _Niall_."

"I don't have practice for a while either," he begged, making his voice whiny and breathless before resting his head on his shoulder, "so you can fuck me till I can't walk for days or till--"

He was hoisted up, the back of Zayn's shirt pressed into his face. Lifting his head, everything was passing by in a blur, the sofa already a distant point as Zayn took the stairs two at a time. This only twitched his dick even more against his boyfriend's shoulder, the sudden awareness of Zayn's strength and all he'll do to him had him moaning pitifully. He never been upstairs before, using the bathroom downstairs whenever he needed. At the top of the steps and already briskly walking down a hallway, he only noticed the creme rug of the floor before he was in a room and dropped onto a bed. He landed with an oof, the silk sheet rising to frame him as he sunk into the mattress. "Do you know what you're asking of me?" Zayn hovered over him, elevating himself with his hands next to Niall's head. He cowered under his patronizing gaze, nodding in response. Zayn shuffled away towards the bathroom. "Don't touch yourself," he ordered right when Niall cupped himself. His skin ached with a burn already and he looked down to see his dick fully erect, a pillar between his legs. It was uncomfortable and his clothes clung to his skin damply.

"Zayn, hurry up," he groaned in annoyance. His fingers were flattened against his groin, relieving his ache slightly. Zayn returned with just his pants on, his chest displaying all the ink Niall knew with his eyes closed. A tube and foil packet were in his hand and he rested them next to Niall's head. 

Everything became serious suddenly. The way Zayn gazed down at Niall from the foot of the bed. The way Zayn's dick was so hard and neglected it looked painful from outside the cloth. The way Niall couldn't control his heavy breathing and rapid heartbeat. The way his dick twitched when Zayn looked down his body so erotically and proudly, his hands closing around the top of Niall's hips.

He pulled him down until the knees rested at the end, legs dangling down the edge. Getting on _his_ knees between Niall's, his fingers hooked under the waistband, pulling them down. His boxers accompanying the sweats, he took off his shirt himself. Zayn was going too slow and he wanted him now. _Now_. "Zayn," he urged. The only response was Zayn lifting his gaze from between his legs to his face. The look he wore read determination and it told Niall to shut up. He huffed out a breath, dropping his head onto the bed and putting an arm over his eyes.

"Open your legs wider."

"I don't know..."

"Niall..." he warned until Niall did as he was told. Air settled around his exposed hole and he wrapped a hand around his dick to erase the vulnerability settling over him. Zayn warned again but allowed him when Niall's voice held a desperate edge to it. He felt fingers dip into the flesh of his bum, spreading the cheeks apart. Suddenly the quick jerks he gave himself weren't enough to kindle the alarm going off in his head.

"Zayn?" he questioned, the edge in his voice clearly noticed. When he felt thumbs skim around the muscle, his legs tensed. " _Zayn?_ "

"Shh," Zayn cooed. A warm breath of air accompanied the word, hitting Niall's hole and he involuntarily clenched at it. Zayn's jaw dropped at the sight, the way the pink muscle retracted and puckered, wanting _something_. God, he mouth literally watered at the sight, and he pressed his face into Niall's thigh before he came on the spot. He swallowed, looking up to find Niall staring down at him with his elbows hoisting himself up. Zayn saw the tension on his face and the way his red chest heaved, so he bit his lip slowly, keeping eye contact with him. "Do you know how long I've wanted this?" he asked, making sure his breath hit Niall _there_ , and it did from the way Niall sucked in a gulp of air, not bothering to hide how surprised he was. Zayn leaned in closer, talking right against the hole, sending jolts up Niall's legs and spine. "Do you have any idea what I want to do to you?" A small squeak left Niall as they still faced each other. Zayn allowed one, two, three seconds of silence before dropping in a low voice, "everything." Placing Niall's feet flat on the end of the bed, his tongue flicked the hole, circling it until spit dripped down his chin. 

Niall tensed the moment he made contact, inhaling as if he just reached the surface of a deep pond, finally getting air after an unnecessary amount of time. Pinning Niall's hipbones to the bed, he licked a flat stripe up and dabbed at the crease between his balls. Pushing the cheeks farther apart, he scraped his teeth down the perineum while his tongue lapped at the hole repeatedly. Continuing, he looked up and found Niall pumping himself into oblivion, his back arching off the bed and his torso raising abnormally fast with his quick intakes of air. "Zayn. Z- _Zayn,"_ he groaned, pushing down on Zayn's advancing tongue and lifting his head to see the pump of his hand. His mouth bared open in a silent growl, so close to coming but Zayn immediately got off and wrapped a hand around his dick, stopping the oncoming flow. Still flushed and heaving, Niall looked up dejectedly, his face already wrecked while he tried to form a phrase. "Babe. No. I'm-- So close--"

"I know. I know, baby," Zayn assured, nodding with a hand cupping Niall's face, "but I'm gonna need you to pass me the tube. Can you do that for me? I promise it'll get better." Reluctantly, Niall fell back on the bed, reaching up until the item was in his grasp. Passing Zayn the lube when he asked for it, he counted one, two, five seconds until something too slick and cool rubbed his hole. It was good, the feeling. _Really_ good. Zayn simply circled the muscle, the lube making it smooth. Niall bit his lower lip and rubbed into the touch. Pumping his hand slowly, he felt he could come like this in a matter of minutes. Zayn continued to get him wet enough, and Niall marvelled at the pleasure. His teeth sunk into his lower lip because it was _so_ fucking great and sensual and a moan rumbled in his throat and he pumped his hand quicker. But the finger then entered him, agonizingly slow. His hand gripped his dick too tight and the other gripped the edge of the bed. Zayn was standing now, the thumb of his unbusy hand smoothing circles into Niall's waist as he watched his finger enter him. "I don't want to hurt you, and I don't want you running away after this, so I need to do this so it can hurt less." Niall jerked his head into a nod, making a noise of agreement. "Baby, I'm going to need you to relax. Can you relax for me?"

"M'relaxed."

"Okay," he said, not believing him, easing the finger out halfway, "breathe with me, yeah?" Inhaling, he pressed the finger in, Niall breathing in hastily. Exhaling, he brought it out again halfway. Continuing this way, Niall laid on the bed like an unscrewed knob, pliant and loose with his body. Adding a second finger, Niall forced himself to stay calm. It wasn't that hard to. It didn't hurt, but it was weird and good at the same time. He wanted more and he voiced this outloud, pleading with his eyes as Zayn never took his eyes off him. The third one in, he felt it, a slight burn in the distance. But Zayn fingered him real real deep, his fingertips making contact with something. Niall jolted, both hands flying to grip the duvet.

"What was--" a slur of profanity poured out when Zayn nudged it again and again and again, his thumb rubbing his balls. Zayn twisted his wrist halfway, pushing in again and connecting with Niall's prostate. "Fuck, yes. _Right there_ ," he stammered and closed his eyes. Zayn's fingers twitched repeatedly against it, making Niall's mouth pop open. "Oh fuck, don't stop," he moaned, thrashing his head to the side. His legs quivered and Zayn felt the tremor radiate within him. Pulling out, he unlaced the tie of his sweats as it pooled around his feet, going to grab the condom when Niall shook his head quickly. "No. No, no, no. I'm clean," he huffed. 

"Okay." Zayn couldn't move quick enough, smoothing too much lube in his hand and jerking himself to bring more attention to it. Niall lifted his head enough to see Zayn's hand moving rapidly around his dick. The skin tight across and blushed red with thin veins snaking on its surface. And the size of it would normally scare the fucking shit out of him but it only excited him more and he was so fucking horny he rutted his bum on the sheets for something to do with himself. Without thinking and still staring at the dick now pressed against him, he uttered, "do you even have a flaw?" He wasn't expecting an answer, and was going to question when Zayn answered "endurance," but the next moment Zayn was fully inside him, any coherent thought vanishing. It hurt, it bloody hurt, and Niall expected he bled a little because he was literally ripped and he felt the muscle accomodate to fit Zayn inside him, but he was so full. He realized it felt weird before because he felt empty and spaced but there was no space left in him because Zayn was so big he made more space for himself. Niall didn't care. Zayn stayed stockstill, the only thing giving away that he was alive was the twitch of his dick inside Niall that didn't go unnoticed. 

Squirming on the bed, Niall shook with pleads for Zayn to move. "Just give me a moment," he strained out. Niall quickly shook his head.

"No, no, _no_ ," he moaned because he couldn't wait a fucking moment. There was no moment to wait when he felt so good he might curl into himself if he didn't move. So he lifted his hips and brought them down as fast as he could, already shaking with pleasure biting at his spine. Throwing his head back, he now realized just how great sex was because he wanted to scream how good he felt. So he did, moaning and whining _it feels good so so good please move, baby I need you to move because I can't take it._ Never before did so much pleasure course under his skin at one time and it was overwhelming and he was close to tears because his legs ached with moving on their own accord; he couldn't control his movements. Panting hotly, Zayn suddenly snapped his hips forward, trying to wrap his mind around just how tight Niall really was. It was suffocating and slick and hot and he rammed into him repeatedly so that Niall gripped the end of the bed to stay in place.

"Fucking hell," he growled, putting both hands next to Niall's head, hovering over the quivering boy. Laying on the bed, Niall just took it, living in the hard jerks of Zayn inside him. He felt Zayn's dick drag along his walls, the way his sharp hipbones pierced into his arse whenever he entered. It was too much so he wrapped one hand around his dick and the other pulled his own hair to relieve some of the pleasure. His prostate was assaulted on each thrust and he felt like he came on each blow, but only precome ran down his dick, making the grip smoother.

Looking down between Niall's legs, Zayn watched his dick pump inside him. The flesh was slick and red and it only made him quicken his pace. "Oh God," he breathed, moving his hands to grip Niall's thighs right under his bum, folding his legs till his knees rested on the blond's chest and were spread further. His eyes widened at the sight, pushing inside Niall until he uncoiled. "Oh God, _Niall_ ," he moaned, releasing heated come. Shoving inside Niall until he was sensitive, he wrapped a hand around Niall's pumping his dick, helping him release quicker. When he did come, shooting down their hands, he unconsciously clenched around Zayn, making the older man hiss with the sensitivity. But he continued to stroke evenly in him for the priceless expression Niall wore. His eyes closed softly and his mouth opened to its peak with a cutoff gasp stuck in the back of his throat. He jerked him dry, all the while rolling his hips into him. It was uncomfortable but he waited until Niall slumped on the bed, the insides of his legs twitching and voicing uncomfortable noises.

He pulled out, watching the way his dick had smeared come around it when it popped out and settled between his legs. Any slight movement on it caused Zayn to hiss at the sting. Moments later, grabbing napkins from the bathroom, he came back to find his boy in the same position, his blushing chest breathing at its normal pace. "Hey," Zayn whispered affectionately, cleaning Niall up since he was already clean. Niall groaned and turned his head in Zayn's direction, puckering his lips. Zayn leaned down to kiss him briefly, before pressing kisses back to back on his lips and his face and neck and shoulders.

"Baby," Niall whined, "I love you. But please don't make me move."

"How do you plan on moving up the bed?"

"Carry me, slave." Zayn rolled his eyes, but did what he asked, or demanded, whatever. He would never admit it. He grabbed a few blankets from the closet and put them at the end of the bed.

"Niall, we have to take a shower."

"Maybe you do. But _I_ took a shower before I came here."

"The bed is a mess and you're dirty."

"Zaynie?" he asked, so sweet and gentle. 

"Yes, baby?"

"Shut the fuck up, you're ruining the moment." Zayn huffed in annoyance, opening a blanket and roughly throwing it across Niall where it covered his whole frame. Squirming until he got his face free from the blanket, Niall found Zayn already laying down next to him, his own blanket covering his waist down and staring down at him with a blissful tilt to his mouth. "Are you wearing boxers?" Niall asked.

"No."

"Good. I might reward you with a blowjob in the morning."

"You've already rewarded me enough." 

"I want to share a blanket with you," he pouted, lifting up the end of his to lure him in. Zayn chuckled, shaking his head, but got under his duvet nonetheless. Niall was laying on his side, facing Zayn, and Zayn firmed himself to fit the shape of him, one of Niall's legs in between his, one arm draped over his waist with the fingers attached to it brushing against Niall's lowerback. "Thank you," Niall confessed, leaning up to kiss Zayn's exposed jawline. "That was...yeah, that was incredible. And it was all your doing, so."

"It was as much your doing as it was mine," he lowly voiced, fingertips dancing down the crease between Niall's arse. If Niall blushed vividly and bit his bottom lip like a besotted teenage girl into Zayn's chest, well, that's only for the two of them to know. Resting his head on his elevated hand, he stared down at Niall who stared at his chest, his fingertips tracing the inked red lips and wings.

"Aw," Niall complained, "I just realized you didn't mark me."

"There's plenty of time for that, love."

"Can you mark me tomorrow before I go home? And can we have sex again and again until I'm temporarily crippled and--"

" _Niall_."

"What? I'm asking nicely."

"You're insufferable."

"I'm tired. And hungry."

"You're laying in bed. And there's a fridge downstairs."

"But my ass hurts," he pouted for the second time. "You made my ass hurt. It's your fault and you won't even make me a sandwich?"

"Is that your argument?"

"No, because I already won."

"I'm not making you a sandwich. I will not be inferior to you." 

"So you're superior?"

"Obviously." Niall really didn't have an argument this time.

So he just asked, "well, can you please bring me something to drink? I won't bother you again, I promise."

"I don't mind, baby. And you will bother me again." He did get up from the bed, though. And Niall watched his small bum walk away before staring up at the ceiling. He inspected Zayn's room for the first time. The walls were somewhere between beige and grey, soft against the red sheets. The bureau, chest, and bedframe were made of some black wood, polished. And the right wall consisted of a door opened to reveal a small bathroom, a desk in the middle with books stacked on top of it, and another door, also opened with a view that looked like a closet bigger than Niall's room. Just then, Zayn shuffled into the room, a plate and tall glass of soda in his hands.

"I like your room," Niall muffled from his mouth under the blanket.

"My room likes you, too. Now. I don't usually like caffeine late at night, but I'm happy so I poured you Coke. Just this once."

"Thanks, _mum_."

"That's incestuous. Eat and don't get crumbs on the bed." He handed the plate over to Niall, slaps of cheese, meat, lettuce, and pepper flattened between two slices of bread. Niall was too in love to make fun.

Niall woke up first, a fucking ray of sun landing precisely across his face from the window between the chest and bureau. He laid on his stomach, Zayn's head at the top of his back and an arm draped over him. His pants were just in his vision at the foot of the bed and he noticed a light blinking from the pocket that held his phone, signaling a notification. Getting up roughly because he was still in a sleep daze, he turned to find Zayn still asleep but on his back now, arms spread. All throughout the process of getting his phone and sitting on the floor with his back against the bed, his sore bum gnawed at his attention, making him stifle a groan every now and then. The time on the screen indicated it was half past ten in the morning, and the text was received an hour after Zayn and him fell asleep. From Louis, he read the scolding text: _Niall James Horan_! Yeah, by now, Louis must've known. Pressing call next to Louis' name, he put the phone to his ear and on the third ring was greeted in a disbelieving "No. You. Didn't!" Niall couldn't help but giggle, fucking _giggle_.

Calming himself enough to talk properly, he said, "My arse _burns_ now," making both of them laugh, uprooting a memory from a lifetime or two ago. After telling Louis the important details and promising to bribe Zayn to make his famous cookies for Louis, he hung up and turned to Zayn, going to him to give him the blowjob he promised.


	5. Chapter 5

_Present_  

Niall was never good at remembering dates; Zayn knew this. But he'll remember on what day of the week significant events fell on. Like on a yellow-dimmed afternoon, it was a Monday, he first met Zayn. Next to Zayn's secondhand table from his mother on a Tuesday, they made it official; along with this came the prized guitar and his first given blowjob. Wednesday, in the immaculate room he would a year later sleep every night in, he lost his virginity to Zayn, and sometimes in the late slumbered hours with Zayn sound asleep behind him, he'd raise the blanket to his chin and snuggle more into Zayn's arms. And today, Thursday, they missed class for the first time since being together.  

"I'm telling you," Niall said, laying on his stomach in the swinging hammock, Zayn next to him pushing it to and fro, "this day will be told for generations." Zayn was going to respond when Niall raised his head in a grimace. "Not only 'cause we ditched uni, but I can't walk, you fucking prick."  

Niall was still sore from the strenous activity the day before, and around noon that day, Zayn persuaded him to join him in the hottub. Sitting on opposite sides, the blond knew that glazed look in Zayn's eye, the way he mindlessly bit his lip with all his attention on Niall. "M'not taking off my shorts," Niall had said, looking away. But in fifteen minutes, his back was pinned to the lip of the tub, forearms outside of it holding himself up. Legs bracketing Zayn's waist, he had to hold his own weight as Zayn moved in him. But he was so _slow_ ; Niall had felt the drag of his dick, the way his hole stretched to shape the cockhead when he pulled out. The water's temperature only heightened his heated state and as he shook with tremors and muscles ached all over, all the while panting and squirming, Zayn leaned down, his lips hovering over his pulse point and had ordered, _don't come_. When Niall went to move, Zayn gripped his wrists in one hold behind him while the other one squeezed Niall's base. He whimpered, hanging his head and had moaned, "you bastard, you sick selfish  _bastard_!" And he was a wrecked mess throughout it all.  

"Well, I enjoyed myself," Zayn said, resting his head next to Niall's feet on the hammock. Niall rolled his eyes and mocked him in a high-pitched voice, but he smiled nonetheless. It was quiet for a beat or two, just Break of Reality pouring through the air from inside the house. (Zayn was determined to lure Niall into instrumental and when he found them, he knew Niall was a goner.) Zayn shifted his position and skimmed his lips up Niall's leg, stopping right before he reached his bum.

"I will _kill_  you," Niall warned.  

"No, you won't." His words were muffled by being pressed into the skin. Niall whimpered with his face into the canvas.

"You're so _mean_  to me. I don't deserve this," he whined.  

"You've been acting like a baby, you know that?"  

"Well, it's not _my_  fault when you spoil me."  

"Is that so?" he laughed, moving up till his face was leveled with Niall's. He sat on the grass, crossing his legs and skimming a hand through Niall's frizzy hair, noting the brown roots were dominating. He hadn't dyed his hair in a few months and Zayn hoped he wouldn't for a long time. He didn't entirely tolerate his constant bleaching sessions; it damaged Niall's hair and was too strong, but he never listened.  

Niall closed his eyes at the contact, mulling over thoughts. "We should get married on a Friday."  

"Wait. _This_ Friday?" he asked shocked. 

"No, idiot," he laughed, resting his chin on his hand to fully face Zayn, a few inches apart. "Just a Friday."  

"That's a weird request, but okay." Then Niall told him why, and what he thought of it, and what he thought of him, and _don't look at me like that, I'm complimenting you!_ Slowly, so slowly, a smile formed on Zayn's face, all the while looking at the scolding face perched in front of him. "I love you."  

"No, you don't. You wouldn't look at me like I was talking nonsense."  

"It just took me by surprise. But a Friday, it is. Promise."  

"I'm keeping your word. And I love you, too."  

So, a Friday it was. Somewhere down the line in their future, an anticipated Friday. Something they both looked forward to now, something that screamed _forever_ and _only you_. Something real.  

But everything started to fall on a Friday.

 

Class just ended, and Niall was communicating with Zayn using glances, telling him _why the fuck did I ever pick art?_ while Zayn responded _I never forced you to, so stop whining_. Niall loved him, he wholly did with every fiber of his body and every fragment of his soul and even the space and air around him, but goddamn it, he only picked art to be close to him, not to actually _do_  the work. But unfortunately in class, their was no favoritism. Though it was different at home, with a bargained blowjob or persuasive cooked dinner, Zayn cut him slack sometimes. Sometimes.  

But as Zayn was gesturing this to Niall, a girl sat herself on Niall's desk in front of him, waiting for him to look at her. When he did, he noticed she was slightly familiar from the way she looked like she belonged in the popular crowd on campus, but that was it. Her red hair flowed down her back and her bangs framed grey eyes, piercing in the artificial light. Blush lips, cleavage practically pouring out her shirt, skirt rising up her leg that crossed over the other, she was trying to gag a reaction out of him. But it didn't affect him. She was obviously beautiful and he just smiled innocently, unsure why this girl was here. "Can I help you?"  

"Niall, is it? I'm Alice."  

"Um. Cool."  

"You play guitar, right?"  

"Yes, ma'am."  

"I was wondering," and this is where she bit her lip, acting coy and flicking hair off her shoulder, "because I take Music, you see. And I have to analyze a musician. Ask him questions," her voice lowered. "See what he likes. His...preferences. Relating to music, of course."  

"Okay?"  

"Would you be, uh. Um, available?"  

"Well, I have a game tonight. And tomorrow night there's a gig on the east wing that--"  

"Perfect! It starts at seven, right?"  

"Eh, yeah."  

"I'll see you then?" But she hopped off the desk without an answer, swaying hips as she left the room. Niall platonically watched her go, unaware of her intentions. But Zayn knew, and he watched the whole thing unfold. He knew who she was. Weeks before Niall and him started, he pined over her, exclaiming _dude, I found out she's Irish, too oh for the love of Christ I need her_. He wasn't aware that Niall forgot about her. And when she asked if he was available and he basically implied that he _was_. Oh, no. Fuck no. He was not available and she was practically offering a fucking shag right there; if he was to ask her to bend down, she would with a higher raise of her skirt, giving him a view she probably gave half the fucking campus.  

After she left, Niall turned to walk towards Zayn, but he didn't notice the silent glare, the way the tip of his ears were hot and red, a shadow was over his face that tilted down, but still faced Niall. "So, hey," Niall said without preamble, "I discovered this new Italian diner near Harry's and I wanna take you after here." Zayn didn't say anything, just waited for Niall to tell him about this _girl_ he was seeing tomorrow. When Niall looked up and saw the negative expression on Zayn's face he blinked a couple of times, not used to it. "Is everything okay?"  

"Is there something you have to tell me?"  

"Um, no? Is there something I'm not getting?"

Zayn scoffed loudly, before rolling his eyes and saying, "you should get to class."  

"But what about the diner?"  

"I don't know, I have to meet up with _someone_." His snarky reply cut a minor blow in Niall.

It took him a few seconds to realize he must've offended Zayn by minimizing art; he didn't actually mean it. Licking his lips, he softly said, "hey, what happened earlier, it was nothing. Really, it wasn't."  

"It was nothing? Really?" he laughed bitterly. Niall was going to answer when Zayn brushed him off with a raise of his hand. "Just get to class." Niall nodded, not that Zayn noticed, and left. When class ended that day and he found Zayn's class without his presence, he remembered, Zayn was seeing someone. Someone? Who the fuck was someone? He knew all of Zayn's friends, who he hung out with, and never did he hang out with them after class.  

"Do you know who's Zayn with?" he huffed to Louis when they were running laps around the field.

"Zayn?" he huffed back. "Harry heard he was going home."  

"Going home?" he asked surprisingly, stopping in his tracks and making Louis pause with him, a few paces ahead. "What do you mean going home?"  

"I don't know, he just said he was going home." He scratched a sweaty clump of hair off his forehead, registering Niall's cheeks that seemed to fume not from the exercise alone. "Is something wrong?"  

"Nothing's fucking wrong. Let's go." So they completed a few more laborous laps, thanks to Niall. (Not that Louis dared to question or whine.) And if Niall pushed opponents a bit too rough and kicked the ball too fiercely for liking, well, Louis didn't say anything also. He just allowed him to let off steam. They didn't win the game, resulting in a cursing and thrashing Niall to punch the stands, earning one bruised knuckle and a few scratches. And when he kicked the ground with a growl, Louis put a hand on his shoulder, stopping him.

"What's going on?" he asked.  

"Nothing's fucking going on, I'm fine!"  

Louis crossed his arms and put his weight on one leg, waiting for Niall to continue.  

"I actually don't know what's going on. Can we grab something to eat, please?" Louis saw the way his eyes were close to bursting with tears, brows turned down at the corners.

So he nodded without another thought and put an arm around his shoulders as they walked towards his boyfriend, whispering, "Harry got paid today. Let's go to the most expensive pub and spend his whole check." Niall knew he was joking, but was so thankful for his unknown effort that he wanted to cry; he almost did with all the emotions settling over him.  

When he got home (receiving not even a text from Zayn), he found him asleep on his side of the bed, curled into the blanket and breathing slowly. After taking a shower, washing Zayn's dish that he left in the sink, and putting away their dried clothes, he laid behind Zayn, pulling him to fit in his arms before falling into a difficult sleep. He woke up alone, and it was a Saturday. Zayn wasn't home. But he found a note next to his pillow.  

 _Took a run, breakfast in microwave_.  

That's it. No term of endearment. No common smiley nor kiss. Just that. At this point he was fuming. Really fucking fuming. So he didn't fix the bed. He left the breakfast in the microwave. And he blasted an album Zayn repeatedly exclaimed his hate for and played the notes on his loudest guitar, making the windows shake and his eardrums ache. The music was then shut off when Zayn entered the room, anger pressing down roughly on his brow.

"The neighbors could call the police. What's gotten into you?"

"Yeah," Niall breathed before drinking a gulp of water, "I can ask you the same." He was drenched in sweat, no shirt on and wearing shorts that held loosely to his hips. Zayn was no better after coming back from his jog. They both breathed in heavily, just staring at each other.  

"What's that supposed to mean?"  

"You know exactly what that means," he remarked. Zayn wiped the sweat off his forehead.

"Niall, look. If this is going to escalate I don't want to resume this discussion."  

"Who did you see?"  

"... _What?_ "  

"You heard me. I can't know? You can't tell your _boyfriend_  who you were out with yesterday? Or did you actually come straight home?" Recognition shot through Zayn. He only said he was going to see someone to get Niall to tell him about Alice.

"I didn't see anyone," he answered.  

"So you did lie. What the fuck, Zayn?"  

"I'm not the one who's actually going to see someone, Niall."  

" _What. The. Fu_ \-- I'm not seeing anyone! Where did you get that from?"  

"Oh. Okay. So you're not seeing Alice. I must've just imagined the whole thing."  

"Who?"  

"Don't play with me, Niall. I saw you with her yesterday. She asked you out and you said yes. In my _class_."  

"What the fuck are you going--" That girl. The redhead. Now he remembered. Oh shit. Oh fucking _shit._ "You think I'd accept if she asked me on a date?" he asked while taking a step towards Zayn. This was not happening.  

"Niall, she was putting herself out there for you. Of course it was a date." Niall didn't say anything for a while. His mouth hung open in disbelief. He wasn't even going anywhere with her. _She_ was attending where he performed, uninvited. _She_ was the one who went up to him and asked. _She_ just needed help for a project. (Or so he thought.)  

"Do you honestly think I'd go on a date with someone _else_?" he whispered. It hurt. It kind of hurt the little faith Zayn had in him. But Zayn remembered the way he would gaze longingly at her two years ago. Niall didn't. He honestly didn't. "Wow. Okay," he said when Zayn didn't answer. He went to move when Zayn grabbed his wrist, his fingers overlapping.

"Where are you going?" he asked warily.  

"I don't know. Maybe somewhere someone actually knows me since my boyfriend doesn't." Boyfriend. The word didn't quite fit. They were so much more. But with an engagement somewhere down the line, there really was no other way to put it. Zayn's eyebrow rose in question, making Niall yank his arm away. "Do you seriously think I would say yes to a date?" he asked sadly. Zayn was taken aback, a bit. "With someone _else_?" he continued, raising his voice.  

"Niall, I--"  

"Oh, for the love of--" He left the room and walked down the steps, Zayn right behind him.

"Niall," he sighed and ran stiff fingers through his wet hair. "Niall, where are you going?"

"I need air. I'll be home later. Fuck, Zayn. Do you think that little of me?" Zayn froze at the bottom of the steps, confused with the turn of conversation and the incredulous question Niall just asked him because seriously?  

"I think _everything_  of you," he voiced with indigation. Why would Niall ever ask such a thing?  

"I don't know what you saw or if you even saw right, but I would never go out with someone while I'm with you. She has a project and I'm just helping her. Jesus Christ." Niall was becoming uncomfortable in Zayn's presence which was odd and just. Just unsettling because why would Zayn go there? Why the fuck would Zayn go there? And why would he lie and why didn't he just confront Niall yesterday and why did he go _there_?  

"Okay. Okay, I believe you." Now Zayn did, but he didn't believe her. "I just saw the way she was looking at you and-- And you were interested in her before, Niall. You talked about her a lot, I swear." Niall turned towards him slowly, so slow with the air going still around him, thick with something revolting over him. Why would he be interested in _anyone_  when he went home to Zayn every night?  Zayn noticed the incredulous look he wore and fumbled for words. "I'm sorry. That shouldn't have been my initial reaction." Exhaling anxiously, he waited for Niall to respond, in any way.

He just stood there, watching Zayn, waiting for the punchline or-- anything, really. Because yeah, this was uncalled for. "But it was." He sighed and looked away. "I'll be home later, don't worry." Grabbing his keys, he walked out the door.

The gig went great. He gave requests and was asked for an encore. Alice was sat on his right, taking no notes. Niall just shrugged, thinking she'll jot down what happened later in front of her laptop or something. She was amazed, she was in awe. And she was horny.

"That was incredible," she cheered when he moved out of the spotlight for a modern hippie who expressed quotes of balance and freedom, wearing John Lennon sunglasses and bell-bottom jeans that almost covered his flip flops. Alice wore a dress of transparent material, a pink bra and pair of beige shorts under it. Heavy eye makeup, red lips, and hair piled in a frazzled bun.  

"Thank you," he smiled and bowed. "Did you get your notes?"  

"Oh. Right," she laughed apologetically. "You were so good I forgot all about it. No worries. I'll buy you a drink and we'll mull it over."  

"No, thanks. I have to get home soon. See, my--"

"Oh, nonsense. Just one, promise." Three drinks later, he forced himself away from the table.

"Look, Ally. I'm sorry but I really need to go."  

"But I'm not done with you yet." The low tone of her voice had Niall turning to look at her clearly.  

"Wait, what? I have someone at--"  

"And I'm horny. You know you want to stay," she voiced and pressed her body against his, firming her lips on his mouth and not wasting any time with plunging her tongue in him. He pushed her away sharply, causing her to fall back. His first instinct was to help her, like any respectful gentleman would, but _shit_ , he was angry and his head was screeching at him _Zayn was right! Zayn was fucking right!_  She sputtered before raising her head to growl at him, teeth bare. "What the _fuck_ , you dickhead?!"  

"Don't you _dare_  touch me again."  

"You said yes yesterday."  

"To the fucking project! I have a boyfriend!"  

"Who actually asks help for-- oh. Oh, you're gay?"  

"Stay away from me," he said, walking away when she yelled to his retreating back.

"Didn't know you rolled that way with how you fucked every girl before. Hope he wakes up before it's too late."

Something wired inside Niall. And he turned around with a snarl. "What the fuck did you say?"  

"Oh, you heard me. He's probably just another blip on your charts, I bet. Waiting to find the next one."  

"Za-- He's _everything_  to me and I'm in love with him, all right? At least I have something real."  

"Watch what you say, faggot. I'll make you regret it."  

"Yeah, go make yourself useful and fuck a team you haven't already."  

When he got home, a bit drunk but alert, he noticed the way Zayn grasped his appearance, askew and disoriented. "Niall--"  

"Baby, I'm so sorry. Please don't be mad at me." Zayn froze, standing up to walk towards Niall. His heart stuttered and he didn't want to hear what Niall had to say. He didn't, he didn't, he didn't.

"What did you do?"  

"I didn't do _anything_ , but you were right. That bitch threw herself on me and she kissed me but _she_ kissed me. I didn't, I pushed her off and told her I had a boyfriend and I didn't do anything, please believe me." It took a moment for Zayn to react, but he willed himself to grab Niall in his arms. He was uncomfortable, and very angry, but he knew Niall was sincere and seconds away from breaking down.

"Ni, it's okay. It's okay, baby. Let's take a shower, yeah?"  

"You're not angry?"  

"I'm furious, but I believe you. Come on."  

It was fine that night. They didn't do anything, just laid down pressed into each other, but it was fine. It was better the next day. The tension dwindled and Niall attempted a difficult dinner that he failed, resulting in a laughing Zayn and ordering Niall's favorite Chinese take out, but it was better.  

It was horrible on Monday.

 

 

Rumors. All over the place. Alice was always linked to rumors and was, well, a harlot. A notorious harlot. And when she said Niall would regret it, she was right because he fucking _regretted_ it. He caught fragments of whispers everywhere he went.  

"--slept in his car."  

"I heard they even--"  

"--was just begging for his cock."  

"--the best she ever had."  

"--so big she barely handled it."  

And okay, some were actually in his favor so he questioned her way of making him regret it, but the number of girls asking him out or initiating a corner they could meet in five minutes or other pathetic projects, well. Yeah, he realized Alice's way of using threats now. Because they asked him everywhere. Girls he slept with before and girls he'd drool over if it weren't for Zayn (Zayn was everything to him; Zayn made everyone else subpar), all of them. It was annoying, it was unnecessary and it was stereotypically upsetting. Sometimes he wanted to actually curse one out; he had said multiple times in various ways _I'm in a relationship, I am not available, I have a boyfriend, I did not sleep with her, I suck dick_. But no one listened. No one. And what he couldn't handle the most were the disappointed looks Zayn would cast him when a girl asked him in his class.  

It was close to heartbreaking, as close to it as he could tell; he never had his heart broken. And he hoped he never would because if this sharp push and pull in his chest wasn't the real deal, then he wouldn't be able to handle it. It even affected the way they were at home. It was a bit awkward, and one day, Zayn was staring intently at Niall, wondering and unhealthily contemplating.  

"You know, they're also saying that you have freckles on your chest." Niall looked up from the sudden statement passing between them. They hadn't talked in the last five minutes of sitting in the living room, Niall trying to watch TV and Zayn pretending to read Pullman's _The Subtle Knife_.  

"What?"  

"The rumors. I overheard someone saying that you have a lot of freckles on your chest. Now what I want to know, is how do they know that?" This is where he closed the book and put it next to him, shifting his glance to Niall. He only blinked in response for a moment.

A kid shrieked outside the street.

Zayn ran a hand through his hair.

Artificial laughter poured from the flat screen. But nothing was amusing. Nothing at all.  

"Zayn, what are you asking me?"  

"Niall," he started, shifting to sit facing the ground, elbows atop knees, "if. If you, you know. Did something--"  

"No," he interrupted. This tension between them was going for too long. Niall was always home when Zayn expected him to be and he made sure he'd leave his phone on the table between them at dinner, unlocked, so Zayn could know he wasn't hiding anything. And this? This just... yeah. "No, you're kidding me." He sat up from the sofa and stood facing him, but Zayn continued.  

"--with someone, I won't. Like, you can tell me, right? You're not keeping anything from me, right?"  

"We're not going through this again. We're not," he begged, or hoped it came out like a plea. Zayn needed to hear the desperation in his voice because if Zayn actually thought he was with someone other than him-- If Zayn actually believed Niall would jeopardize what they had for something not worth it-- He couldn't answer. He just needed Zayn to believe him.  

"You just have to answer me," he said softly and stood up to walk towards the blond but Niall backed a step away. "Just tell me you didn't. Please." Niall swallowed around the lump in his throat, not breaking eye contact with Zayn. He poured out his disbelief through his expression, his hurt at Zayn's accusation. He even tried to be poetic with opening his eyes wider, still staring at him because Zayn was the only one he had eyes for. As in, yes, he highly believed he was giving senses and limbs to link them with parts of Zayn because every surface on his body screamed _Zayn_ and _only Zayn_ ; it was a wonder how people couldn't tell or that his skin wasn't branded with burning bold letters of Zayn's name everywhere.  

" _Zayn_. Are you hearing yourself?"  

"Did you sleep with someone?"

. . . And, shit. Everything froze. Or Niall hoped it did. Nothing existed outside of them, or maybe they were in their own universe away from it all. Or something. But something very ugly and dark churned horribly inside of Niall. Because the implication behind Zayn's words was there from the beginning, but he forced himself to think Zayn only thought he made out with someone or lips latched onto his chest. But not this. And now it was out there; it wasn't going anywhere. There was no extraordinary ability that could've open the floor and swallow the words nor was there a mental power that Niall possessed to take that filthy question from ever leaving Zayn's mouth. And he'd go so far as to reach into Zayn and burn the roots of where that question started, making sure it'll never appear or be thought of again. But too late, it was _there_.  

Niall breathed a little to calm himself, to stable himself and to will the tears from making an appearance. "I didn't sleep with anyone. This rumor is weeks old already. Maybe I bent down and my shirt opened. Maybe they just put together the fact that I'm fucking covered in spots," and this is where his voice was rising, "but I didn't fuck someone else, Zayn. How many times do I have to tell you that? Do I have to scream it to everyone?!" Yeah, he was screaming now. "Do I have to fucking tell that bitch in front of everyone to stop spreading lies? Because if you haven't noticed, I tried! You don't think this is hard for me, too?"  

Zayn pulled his head back like someone tried to slap him and he just barely dodged it, blinking his eyes rapidly. "Hard for you? You're not the one looking stupid when you hear that your boyfriend supposedly slept with girl after girl after girl!"

"Oh, okay. So now I'm a whore. A fucking manwhore though I've only slept with you for two years, Zayn. Two years!"  

"I didn't say that. I'm--"  

"And wait. Why should _you_  look stupid when no one even knows we're together? If I recall it was _your_  idea not to tell anyone so you have nothing to worry about!"  

"Yes, I do have something to worry about! How the hell do they know you have freckles? Don't lie to me."  

"I'm not the one who lied and said I went to see someone." Yeah, Niall never forgot that. The fact Zayn actually went so low as to lie to Niall. And though it was in a failed attempt to get Niall to admit about Alice, it was still immature of him and the sudden memory of it had him boiling.  

"That was weeks ago," Zayn said, trying to keep his voice low.  

" _This_ was weeks ago!"  

"And if you haven't had agreed none of this would be happening!"  

"Well, I'm sorry. Does that make it better? I am so so sorry for the hundredth time and tomorrow all of this will disappear just how it always fucking does!"  

"Don't get agitated with me, Niall," he screamed, jabbing a finger in his direction. "I asked a simple question!"  

"We're not doing this, all right?" He went to grab his coat, but it wasn't there. "Where the fuck is my _coat_?!"  

"It's on the desk. Where are you going?"  

"Zayn, I love you, but I'm really fucking annoyed right now. I don't want to say something I'll regret."  

"You don't think _I'm_  mad?" he laughed bitterly. He watched Niall walk about, moving cushions, roughly putting keys into his pocket, walking with his shoes half on. Groaning and pulling his hair to flap back against the top of his head, Zayn placed his hands on his hips and leaned on one foot. "Niall, come on. Don't leave. This isn't going to get resolved."  

"There's nothing to resolve, Zayn. I'm in fucking love with you." He found his coat. "I told you this so many times." He briskly put it on, patting the pockets for his phone and wallet. "And I told you I haven't slept with anyone. The last time I fucked a girl was before you. And I'm not going to sleep with one as long as we're together. With _anyone_ , for fuck's sake." He opened the door, leaning back to stare directly at Zayn. "I have my phone. I'm just going to stop by Harry and Louis', okay?"  

"I love you. That's the only reason why I'm bringing this up," he whispered. "Because I care." The way Zayn stood there in the middle of the room, seeming small and defeated and _tired_ of it all. Niall could relate, he really could relate. He thought how he would feel if Zayn was accused of sleeping with many girls and _God_ , that was _cruel_ , just the thought alone gnawed at his brain nerves, giving him a headache. Zayn continued to look at him pleadingly, just wanting to get this done and situated, but it wasn't that easy. If Niall could've done anything at all, even just erase the fallen look on Zayn's face for a few seconds, he'd do it. "Only 'cause I  _care_."

He slammed the door, quickly walking towards Zayn and a foot away, gripped the back of his neck and pressed his mouth to his. Zayn responded quickly, not wasting time with suddenly tightening his hold on Niall's waist. This was kissing, passionate kissing. Not a peck in the morning when they departed or a tap when they tried to seem okay in front of their friends. It was so overwhelming, the way Zayn's blunt nails scratched up Niall's back under the shirt, the way Niall automatically arched to press against Zayn without realizing. Zayn's lips were hot, breathing into Niall's already-panting mouth and stabbing his tongue against the younger boy's before tracing his teeth and biting on his bottom lip. And he knew _when_ to do it, was the thing. He knew how Niall easily submitted when it came to _his_ lips, precisely. Because his mouth would just gape open in awe and right before he'd react, Zayn would pull roughly at his bottom lip, uttering a broken groan of pain or surprise from the blond, but it wasn't painful enough to stop him chasing his tongue when he moved away. And they were accustomed to each other's mouths and every part of it was mapped out, but Zayn couldn't get _enough_. He couldn't he couldn't he couldn't. And he literally believed he would never tire of it because Niall never failed to be eager to recooperate in some way or tighten his hold on Zayn's hair. It was almost enough for Niall to lose imself in it, almost.

Panting minutes later, Zayn went to kiss him again when Niall moved away.  

"No," Zayn whimpered.  

"This isn't make-up sex," he gasped, an inch away from Zayn's mouth. His fingers were still in Zayn's hair, and he noticed how the older man's swollen and shiny mouth moved, as if wanting more. More, more, more. And it didn't go unnoticed the way Zayn's gaze was fixed solely on his mouth, beckoning. It made Zayn have a difficult time concentrating; Niall's mouth was open taking deep breaths, lips violently bruised and just _plump_ , wrecked and raw and Zayn wasn't done with him.  

"Well...it can be." His dick twitched against Niall's and the blond shuddered a little, just a little.

Swallowing, he responded, "You're crazy. But I'm still annoyed with you."  

"I'm sorry. I just get scared and then--"  

"Don't be scared, yeah? I'm here. I'm staying here. Well, not literally. I'm still gonna go see Louis, so."  

"You're still leaving?" he pouted. "I have to fend for myself?" he added with a force of his hips against Niall.  

"Yes, you do. I'll be back later." Zayn counted three seconds before slowly loosening his grip on Niall's arse, nodding briskly. "Okay. Yeah, okay." He kissed him once. "Say hi to them for me." It took a lot of effort, how Zayn gently pushed him away at an arm's length, swallowing to stop himself from just ripping the boy in front of him to shreds, the boy who held his life in the soft palm of his hand, in charge of anything and everything that made him wake up and complete daily tasks. It wasn't that easy for Niall, either, how Zayn's erection was there, obnoxiously taunting him, under only one, two pieces of clothing. All he had to do was push them down with one hand, just one. And it would be free. And then Niall was definitely going to stay. But as shocked as Niall was with himself, this wasn't about sex. If they actually gave it thought, sex was the projectile in this whole problem. So no, he wasn't going to succumb to it. There was a lot to talk about, to discuss, but the stiff air thinned a bit. A bit. Zayn was still pleading with him to stay, to just stay, please. Not even to have sex or kiss, but to just be there. But Niall had to leave, if only for a moment or two. And he missed Louis and thought maybe Louis could help with his dilemma.  

And as Niall left, Zayn watched him go. They weren't back to normal, but it was better. They hadn't properly slept together in a week. And that was saying something.

When Niall arrived at their house, Louis opened the door. Harry was tutoring a few students and after they drank a cup of red and moved onto seconds, accompanied with Harry's leftover alfredo, well, he decided to hold off on his problems. He was having a good time; it hadn't been just the two of them in a few months, and nothing's changed. Yeah, he was definitely Niall's best friend. He knew what to say to get Niall thinking and that's what he needed, to think, to get his mind off that problem, even if it was temporary.  

And as they sat and ate at the dinner table, Louis wasn't as physically animated, Niall realized. Sure, his voice held the right tones at the right places and his right hand drew shapes and designs in the air, emphasizing his statements. But the other clutched tightly onto his tupperware bowl. So Niall payed close attention to it, the way his fingers stretched to wrap around the corner, the vein prominent on the back of his hand, and-- and Louis' voice was heard at the end of a tunnel now, because. . .  

"That's an engagement ring," Niall blurted. He stopped chewing. The sound of utensils and plastic bowls bumping into each other ceased. Louis' voiced ceased. The fucking air practically held its own breath.The fork in Louis' hand stabbed a bit too roughly suddenly, and he swallowed before staring up at Niall. "You're engaged," he repeated, like he was telling him his shoes were untied or he was tired or he used Zayn's shower gel up.

"Um. Yeah. . . I am."  

"You're engaged." Again, just a statement, thick and tangible, leaving no room for Louis to respond. It wasn't a question. Louis blinked down at his bowl a few times, then out of habit reached up with his left hand to push hair out of his face, the fork was still squeezed in his right. But then, "holy shit, you're _engaged_?"  

"Eh," he tried to laugh, growing red under Niall's beam. Clearing his throat and nodding nonchalantly, "yeah. Yes, sir."  

"Why the fuck am I hearing about this now?" Louis didn't know if he was angry or surprised or both; Niall continued after a beat of silence. "Bring it here!" And he shuffled over and squeezed the breath out of him, lifting him up and twirling. Louis would've regularly scold him for making such a dramatic scene, and with no one to witness, too. But he was happy the cat was out of the bag now. (He was aware of the rumors around school, the way Zayn and Niall weren't the same, hanging on a thread that wasn't thin, per se, but neither impenetrable. So why would he rub his happiness in someone's face who wasn't?)  

Being placed on the floor, both laughing and inhaling, Louis told him it was two weeks ago, in Harry's classroom. Hours past the time students roamed around, Louis was mindlessly going through a pile of papers in the exact corner of the desk Harry and him first fucked two and a half years ago. He was talking about the time he was informed he was going to be a big brother and how it kind of sucked he wasn't going to be the only child anymore. Harry was silent through it all, and when Louis asked if Harry was listening, he muttered from behind him, "I'm not good with this, and I wanted to be original, but. You know I love you, right? And you're there. . . I'm here. . ." and while Louis was asking him why was he talking awkward ( _Jesus, Haz, it's just me_ ), well. He didn't expect Harry on one knee.  

"Louis," he whispered happily. They were sitting on the floor next to the dining room, content with the cold ground beneath them and the warmth passing through their bloodstream from the wine. " I'm so... goddamn it, I'm gonna cry," he laughed, punching Louis in the shoulder. "C'mere, bro. You're engaged!" He hugged Louis again who laughed into his shoulder. "Why didn't you tell me before?" he asked after a bit. It was an inevitable question. Louis focused intently at the tile beneath his feet, more yellow than orange like the rest. He shrugged in answer, stating he didn't find a moment worthy enough for such worldwide news. He was lying. Niall knew this. And with the way Louis quickly asked Niall how were things with Zayn, that the rumors were starting to die, he knew why Louis didn't tell him. He was a little bothered, a little grateful, and very happy. Very very happy. And as he said this to him, he noticed a shine in Louis' eye and how he quickly blinked it away with a watery smile, trying so hard not to cry. Not yet, at least.  

The ring was beautiful, a simple three-band ring with gold in the middle and silver bordering, two birds in midflight on the inside. It was beautiful. Niall cleaned the table and Louis washed the dishes, telling Niall how they planned to stay engaged for a little while, but they were serious; it screamed _forever, only you_. Standing next to Louis, he noticed how the ring caught the right amount of light and reflected it through the suds; how water droplets clung to it with adoration, yeah it was that extravagant. But he mostly noticed Louis, how the ring was so much a part of him now. He was dumbstrucked with how he didn't realize sooner. It was illuminating, it was grand on Louis' small fingers and it caught attention. It was noticeable, and beautiful. And the way Louis glowed with joy was beautiful. And almost everything was beautiful.  

Almost everything.      

 

 

When he left it was a bit after three in the morning, texting Zayn a few hours ago that he was going to stay late; and he didn't have morning classes the next day. Well, in a few hours, actually. Tiptoeing not to wake Zayn, he silently shuffled out of his shoes by the door, individually placing his phone, keys, and wallet on the kitchen counter when he noticed the living room light was still on, the small living room. Zayn was sitting there, in the same clothes as earlier.  

"Zayn? Did you wait up for me? I told you--"  

"No, no. It's fine," he smiled, brushing off Niall's statement with a hand, but there was no malice behind it. It was genuine and understanding. And with one look at Niall, he motioned with his head for the young boy to sit next to him. Niall sat a respectable distance from the dark-haired man who was facing the ground with his elbows on his knees. "Baby, there's nothing to feel awkward for, okay?" he said, lifting Niall's feet from the ground to settle on his lap as he sat back, fully facing the blond. The sweat of fear stopped running down Niall's back, and he relaxed into the cushion, taking in Zayn's appearance. He was still beautiful, beyond beautiful. Even now it never failed to struck him without prelude sometimes how aesthetically appealing Zayn was, and the fact his soul and heart were made of a precious element finer than gold or diamond made him even more so. But lack of sleep was etched under his eyes, and from the smell of his clothes he knew Zayn was smoking a lot since he left. He felt really guilty, and with a raised hand he clasped the wrist of Zayn's hand that was slowly massaging his feet.

"Zee, are you okay?"  

"Well, I guess I am. But we're not."  

"No," Niall agreed, preparing himself to continue. "No, we're not. Babe, I'm so sorry. I'm sorry for getting hype with you and for leaving, but. Please believe me that it's only been you," he whispered. "It's _only you_."  

"No, don't apologize. It was my fault. I just. . ." and he waved a hand in the air before dropping it to Niall's ankles, not wanting to finish. Niall knew this was harder for Zayn.

"Just what?"  

"It hurts," Zayn started and licked his lips, turning to Niall. "It just, hearing those things, it's not. It's very uncomfortable. And I believe you, baby. I really do and I'm sorry for accusing you of that, but," he licked his lips again, releasing a nervous laugh and staring down at his hands. "I remember how you were, when we first met. And all the girls asking you for _help_ , well. They're girls you'd accept in a heartbeat. And," he stuttered out a breath. "It doesn't take much for someone to fall back into old habits. And--"  

"Zayn?"  

"Yes, baby?" he answered quickly, glad he didn't have to continue. He was making a fool out of himself, basically listing his insecurities for Niall to pick through and examine individually. And Zayn never did that before, ever. He was locked into himself and never found the need to express faults. But what else was there to do when the boy he was achingly in love with was slipping away a bit? He'd do it all again if he had to. If he _had_  to. And he felt he did now.  

"Zayn, look at me. Please." After furrowing his eyebrows, he looked up at Niall to find him staring. His face was void of resistance, letting whatever emotion coursing through him display itself. "Zayn. I get it, what you're trying to say. What I don't get is how you still question if I'm going to leave or not," he whispered. Placing his feet flat on the couch, he pushed up until he was sitting with his legs over Zayn's lap, his head resting on his shoulder as he brought a hand to caress the dark stubble in front of him. Zayn still gazed down at him, not giving anything away as Niall continued. "I don't want to leave and I told you that countless times. I won't ever do anything to hurt you and I told you that even more. So stop being fucking oblivious to what's in front of you-- and don't you dare make a joke and stare blatantly at me-- and don't listen to them. _Please_ ," he huffed. "I'm sorry for the Ally thing and--"  

"Alice."  

"What?"  

"Nevermind."  

"Well. I'm sorry for going that day. And I'm sorry you have to hear all that shit. But just know it hurts me too. And when I see how it affects you. It nearly _destroys_  me, every time," he laughed. "So, just. Ignore them. But don't ignore me anymore, please? That hurts, too." He nuzzled his nose into Zayn's cheeks, breathing him in.  

"You're too good for me," Zayn scoffed, shaking his head to the other side but Niall forced him to look at him.

He retorted, "And you don't give yourself enough credit. Can we drop this please? Is this over and done with?"  

"Yeah," he huffed, leaning his head back and closing his eyes, "yeah, I like that idea. Haven't had a proper sleep in ages."  

"Let's go upstairs, baby." He kissed his jaw. "You can go to sleep. Miss work tomorrow to catch up on sleep, yeah? I'll cook you breakfast in bed." Niall continued settling kisses over his jaw, his cheek, the corner of his mouth, just because he was able to. That it was okay to do this for the first time in a while.  

"M'not tired."  

"You look like you're about to crash," he laughed.  

"I said," he growled, turning to stare down at Niall, obscenely flicking his gaze to his mouth that hung open, "I'm not tired."  

And no, he wasn't tired. Because as Zayn was throbbing in him later, it was hard for _Niall_  to keep up. His hands latched onto Zayn's arse, losing their grip with each thrust in his body like a jolt, momentarily disabling all senses. Placed on his side with one leg bent across the older man's shoulder, Zayn gripped his hip tightly, groaning out profanities and baring teeth in a growl, pushing into Niall in a way that would have him worried shit if he was thinking straight. Or when holding onto the headboard and sitting on Zayn's dick, the man held NIall's pliant body in hands as he rocked into him filthily, slurring dirty words into Niall's ear that had him shaking with his orgasm, before moaning how perfect Niall was, having him cry into Zayn's shoulder with his second release.  

Laying down, barely coherent but forcing himself to cooperate with Zayn, they just kissed for a little. Hands roaming each other's bodies, not sparking anything. Just exploring known territory while their mouths molded slowly and their breathing evened. "We need," Niall gulped, fighting exhaustion, "we need to fight more often." Zayn laughed into his neck, rubbing circles into the skin with his thumb. "We need to fight more, and have more make-up sex. And. . . find an excuse to fight, to have more make-up sex. . . And I'm going to fail my next exam. So you can be mad at me, and then we'll have great. . . make-up sex again," he drifted, not withstanding the persistent pull on his eyelids.  

"I love you more than anything."  

". . . Love you. Zee."  

Zayn woke up around ten, finding Niall sleeping on his stomach. A mischevious glint crossed his face at Niall's current position. He pushed the blanket off and sat on Niall's calves, earning no more than a groan from Niall from the shifting drop of weight. The pale arse was under his hands and as he opened it to reveal the swelling and leaking pink muscle, yeah. Fuck yeah, he was going in. Literally. He entered half his pinky, how it puckered as if debating on wanting something or trying to retract the finger. Niall suppressed a small whimper, barely audible with all the blood rushing to Zayn's dick. This alone would make him come if he continued. So pulling the cheeks apart and settling his hips right behind Niall's bum, he slid in easily. _So_ easily he moaned outloud, " _Shit_ ," prolonging the vowel until his lungs gave out. Niall was still slick and shit shit fucking _shit_  he could be here all day. He didn't want to move. "Fucking Christ," he groaned loudly, when he body moved on its own accord, resulting in a merciless bite at the bottom of his spine. He put all his weight on Niall, whispering hotly in his ear to wake up and _Tell me how fucking sore you are. Look at how easy your body responds to me. You're mine. You're fucking mine._  He continued and Niall woke up slowly, releasing a moan, suppressing a groan from the sting but the spike of pleasure had him rutting into the sheets.  

" _Oh_ ," he moaned, waking up to the persistent push and pull of the organ in him and Zayn's words in his ear. Zayn roughly pulled his hair, the back of his head resting on his shoulder.

"No one can take my cock like you. You're just begging for it, aren't you?"  

" _Zee! Z-Zayn, holy shit_ ," he whined. It was-- Shit, it was everything. His hole was swollen, practically pushing against Zayn to relieve some of the pain, but Zayn's dick was sliding over his prostate in a way that was new. It was new and he couldn't even lift his head or move his hips now since Zayn planted his hands roughly on his arse to elevate his torso, slamming into him that the mattress shifted against its frame.  

"Remember the rumor? How she couldn't handle your cock? I'll make sure you can't handle mine." His hips picked up speed, making Niall hunch for the familiar uncoiling inside him. He was suddenly pulled up, Zayn's hips still slapping against him. And Zayn grabbed Niall's cock, pumping until a shout emitted through the room with a climax. "I mean it," he growled, continuing the pump and his thrusts, "You're all mine. Your fucking cock." He fisted until Niall jolted with the sensitivity, placing both hands on pale hips, snapping forward to get to his relief quicker. "Your fucked up arsehole. _Everything_."  

It was intense, and overwhelming afterwards when Niall laid boneless on the bed and Zayn hovered over him catching his breath. "I'm sorry," he huffed. "Sorry, I just. Got carried away."  

"No. No, no, no. Shit, fuck, cunt that was great!"  

"I didn't hurt you?" Zayn asked breathlessly, fixing a perplexed stare on Niall.

"You only killed me about, seventy times. But it was so worth it. Jesus, I love you."  

Yeah, Zayn could say the same.  

Zayn could say everything went great after that.

Zayn couldn't say it lasted.

 

"Ugh! How is it that I have to share my _own_ boyfriend with students?" Niall pouted, throwing himself face down on the bed as Zayn packed around him. He was going with the study-abroad students for the first two weeks; they were going to Italy and he was asked to be a chaperone. Being the fucking selfless god he was, he happily accepted.  

"I'll be back before you know it, love." He sat down on the edge of the bed, massaging where Niall's shoulder blades met. At the contact, he sharply moved onto his side, roughly holding his head up with a hand, elbow flat on the mattress.

"I'm gonna starve," he spoke. "I'm gonna live off fast food and my fingers for fourteen days."

"Do you think of anything besides food and sex?"  

"Well, it's hard when you're a great cook and have an even better cock."  

"What did I get myself into?" he laughed to himself, standing up to put the last item in his suitcase: Niall's varsity football jacket. He gave it to him when Zayn told him he was going on the trip a month ago. It was a night out with friends, Liam and Danielle were dancing, Harry and Louis were probably in a bathroom stall, and Niall was hopelessly drunk and clinging onto Zayn with despair, pushing the jacket into his arms as they sat in a barstool. _You need to wear this everyday,_ he had nearly cried, close to tears from his intoxicated state. _And you need to remember me everyday. And think of me. And sleep with it, too. And why are you leaving me?_ he had whined, earning a look of fond annoyance from Zayn who tried to settle the bawling boy in his arms.  

"But seriously, I think of you a lot," Niall smiled, laying on his back to gaze openly at Zayn. Zayn beamed back at him. "I think of your famous stirfry dish. And _your_ fingers, too. And your dick, it's great. Also your homemade cookies," he trailed. Zayn just barked with laughter, curling into himself and calling Niall a shameless prick.  

Classes dragged, work wasn't hectic enough to keep him preoccupied, and Louis and Harry were in their perpetual bubble of engagement happiness, slightly impenetrable to Niall's nagging complaints of taking him out or feeding him homecooked meals. Slightly. "Didn't Zayn teach you a thing?" Louis had grimaced, forced to make him garlic flavored noodles with meatballs in warm tomato sauce and spend the evening with Niall who beat him in a round of FIFA. It was the third day.  

He wasgone nine days, not that Niall was counting. After studying for the Earth Science exam next week, calling his mum and asking how Katie was, playing Draw Something with Greg for an hour, jerking off to the memory of when he first topped (he laid flat on the bed while Zayn rode him thoroughly, making sure Niall felt as much as him, all the while straining how long it's been since he bottomed and praising his length), he texted Liam.  

 _Where r you_?  

 _Gym, why?_  

Who the hell wasted precious idle time at the gym?

 _Entertain me_ , Niall replied, sending a threatening emoji of a gun.

_Cant . Meet me here, the one outside haven mall_

_Ughhhhh that requires gettin up. Be there in a lil_

He held the punching bag, forcing his feet to hold their ground as Liam unleashed a three-punch form on it before kicking the top half. "Jesus Christ," Niall exerted under the pressure of staying still. "Just punch me through the wall while you're at it."  

"You're whining again," Liam informed him, wiping the sweat off his lip before jabbing the boxing equipment. "Seriously, though. Professor Malik will be here in what, five days?"  

"Zayn, Liam. His name is Zayn. How many times do I have to tell you he's not a teacher outside of class?" He was introduced as Niall's boyfriend at Danielle's birthday party that took place in Liam's flat, back when Danielle and him were only friends. (Haha, friends. Liam was so obvious even back then it hurt.) Niall still remembered the way Liam's eyebrows shot up, exclaiming in disbelief, _Professor Malik? You're-- I mean, you and Niall?_ Liam had swallowed his tongue a few times while shaking his hand, feeling like he was in class under Zayn's prawning eye and shaking with angst. Zayn had smiled and reciprocated _Zayn is fine. Pleasure to meet you in a different setting, though. I've been told I needed your blessing before I officially joined the family._ Niall just clung to Zayn through their introduction, smug, besotted, and turned on by Zayn's effect on everyone.  

"Well, whatever. _Zayn_  will be here soon. Wouldn't want me to tell him how you've been acting while he was gone, now. Do you?" Niall knew they were close, texting almost on a daily basis and were each other's first choice if they wanted a workout buddy. If Niall and Liam didn't love one another as much as they did (seriously, though Liam was self-conscious at the party, it didn't stop him from asking personal questions. Like, what were his intentions with Niall and implying he'd cut off his manhood and shave the pupils out of his eyes if he ever hurt his cousin, in said person's presence. More direct than implied, if Niall was being honest) and if Niall didn't know how whipped Liam was, he would have felt jealous and on edge with worry.  

"You're cruel, you know that?" Niall remarked, roughly pushing the punching bag towards Liam who only caught it. He fidgeted with his gaze, staring at Niall, at his taped hands, at the floor between them, the space next to Niall's head. The blond stared questionably back. "Just spill it out, Li."  

"Um," he scratched behind his ear before rolling his shoulders and continuing his punches, forcing Niall to grasp it tightly. This gave him a point of focus, and also Niall, to lessen the serious note in his confession. "Well, did you ever stop to think that maybe, I don't know. You've been dependent on him or something?"  

"What?"  

"It's just a thought. I've just been attentive on you two. And it's nothing bad, not entirely. But what if... what if something happens and the two of you--"  

"Stop." He let go of the bag, letting it swing sway to and fro between them now. "If you're saying what I think you are, stop right now."  

"It's normal, Ni. Couples break up."  

" _Stop_. I don't know if _you_  realized, but Zayn and I aren't just a couple. And I love him. I loved him way before we slept together and way before I knew of his actual salary and maybe before we even started dating."  

"I know you do. Believe me," he laughed, "I know." He unwrapped the bandage over his knuckles, staring intently at the task. "'S just food for thought. I care about you. And I don't want you unstable if it falls apart."  

"Food for thought," he drawed. "I'm hungry now. Would you eat McDonald's if you let me pay?"  

"Did you hear anything I just said?"

 "I really did, Liam. I just don't like thinking of us breaking up. I'll be more independent, promise. And if in a few months time you don't see a difference, I'll let you lecture me again."

Liam rolled his eyes, sighing out, "do you even know what kind of meat McDonald's uses?"

Zayn was coming home in two days. And it was while Niall was leaving Sound Engineering that a girl timidly tapped his shoulder. When he turned around, he noticed a small pretty girl with dead straight brown hair. Pale eyes and a big sweater that hid her frame, she smiled sheepishly, but spoke boldly with confidence. "So, hey there. I hope this isn't a wrong time, but I need your assistance. Of course you can say no..." but Niall didn't hear the rest, because really, was this happening again? The inquired affairs stopped a few weeks ago and this was _not_ happening again. He forced himself to stay calm, balling his fists to his sides as he interrupted her midsentence.

"I'm not sure if you've heard, but I'm in a relationship and--"  

"No, no. I understand. Trust me, "she smirked, "I'm not offering a shag like those other sluts. I know you're gay and I have a boyfriend myself. I just really need help on that shitty assignment Professor Cowell assigned." Oh. Right. He remembered him giving everyone a slip of paper that had the requirements for the task. It was due this Friday. He planned to use Louis or persuade Zayn to do it for him.

He nodded at her, saying, "I didn't know you were in that class."  

"Yeah, I'm quiet in the back of class. I don't like talking that much. Lia, by the way." She extended a hand and he grasped it, comfortably.

"Niall," he smiled.  

Turned out, Lia was telling the truth. And she was one of the realest people he met in a while. She was intently quiet while Niall performed _Learn To Fly_  effortlessly (thank you, YouTube and Guitar Hero), but she asked questions that made Niall sit back and think for a moment. She wasn't shy with ordering Niall to pose this way and that till the perfect angle was reflected in the video camera propped a few feet away. And she shamelessly told people to fuck off when they needed the room they obviously occupied. They wrapped it up with a handshake and Niall wishing her good luck and her offering the same. It was a great two hours of normalcy Niall didn't know he needed and he went home with an air of tranquility that stayed with him until Zayn found out four days after his arrival.

 

 

Niall was working his shift maneurvering through two packed tables with white plates dangling on his stretched fingers. Smiling while placing the dishes in front of the appropriate customer, his phone buzzed in his apron. He hid in the corner where the baby stools were stored to read the text from Zayn the Greatest, name accompanied with the heart-eyes emoji face and the emoji made of sparkles (a name he saved him as one drunken night he told the surrounding people how Zayn was _so fucking great in bed all I see are stars and shit_ ).

_Call me_

He called without a moment's hesitation, wanting to hear Zayn's voice. He picked up in the middle of the first ring. "Baby," Niall cheered hushly, facing the wall, "What's up? I put aside that Eggplant Rigatoni you like. I can sneak a bottle of wine if you--"  

"Were you ever going to tell me?"  

Huh? Niall furrowed his eyebrows, forgetting Zayn couldn't see his confused expression. "Tell you what?"  

"Are you kidding me? Is this going to become a thing of yours, Niall? Because, trust me, I--"

"What are you talking about?" his voice rose a little.  

"Why is it that," Zayn spoke lowly, "I have to hear from a student of mine, how Niall was with this girl he has class with in the corner of the guitar section. And how she told a few people to _fuck_ off," Niall shuddered at Zayn's profanity, he only used it in bed. _It was only supposed to be used in the bedroom_ , Niall thought sadly with an inch of fear, "When they tried to enter the room?" Niall allowed a moment to swallow, looking down at the phone to make sure it was really Zayn calling, because please, please, _please let me wake up_. This wasn't supposed to be happening. Not when he was so happy and drunk in love. Still, after two years, he'd gaze at Zayn and it was like the first time he looked at him. Still, when they kissed slowly at night after making love, he felt like he was living that same moment when they first kissed, Zayn pulling him towards him in the middle of the classroom. And still, in the middle of Zayn moving in him, eyes clenched shut and muscles moving under Niall's trailing hands, it was so much like the first time his breath would hitch in his throat. Suddenly, so suddenly he became angry, boiling anger catching him off guard.  

"If we're going through this again, I'm hanging up. I'm working and if you honestly believe I cheated, I'm hanging up." He didn't even _think_ to tell Zayn about it because it was _so_ **_not_ ** important and he practically forgot about it, even if he was being honest.  

"Niall, what else am I supposed to think--"  Niall hung up with a turn towards a table of his calling for attention. After the third time Zayn tried to call him, he turned off his phone.  

His entrance went noticed with a slam of the front door, his diner's plastic bag clutched tightly in his hand weighted down by its belongings. Zayn was already walking towards him from the kitchen, exhaustion clear in the roll of his eyes. "Okay," Niall nodded challengingly, "You wanna talk. Let's talk. I'm all ears for this bullshit."  

"Bullshit? Is that what you think this is? You think I'd make a big deal out of bullshit?"  

"I don't think. I fucking know, because if we discussed this countless times already and you _promised_. You fucking _promised_ this was dropped."

 "Niall." He put a lot of emphasis on the name to grasp all of Niall's attention who was walking briskly back and forth. "You were alone with her for a few hours. And why couldn't anyone else enter the room then?"

 "Zayn," he mocked. "I swear to every fucking god out there, I didn't agree to a fuck. Before I even finished speaking, she told me she knew I was in a relationship. With a _guy_. And she has a boyfriend her _fucking_ self."  

"Is that supposed to convince me?"  

And whoa, all of Niall's muscles locked. He remembered to blink when his eyes were itching with dryness, and he breathed when his lungs started to tickle. This went way deeper than Zayn's accusations. This was an insecurity. It was mentioned before, but for some unknown reason Niall would never know why, it struck him now, how big it was. "Zayn," he said, voice evidently breaking. "Is there something you're not telling me? About the way you feel because... shit, Zayn," he licked his lips, "Please don't tell me you're insecure, or something. Please don't tell me that." Zayn didn't answer. "Shit," he breathed, running a hand through his hair. "Fucking shit. You're kidding me!"  

"Why would that be a bad thing? I have every reason to."  

"No. You don't. You have _no_ reason to! You don't think I get insecure? You don't think I wonder if you're going to find someone better?" he screeched, face growing red with a vein appearing down his forehead. "You don't think I wonder if you're going to come home with someone new you met on a class trip or one of your dad's fucking meetings? Or _another_ student, because if you saw _anything_ in me, you must see so much more in another student? Because guess the _fuck_ what? I think about it more than you think!" He allowed his body to fill with oxygen before he continued. "Jesus, fucking hell, Zayn. You, are perfect. You're so fucking perfect it worries me, because I'm not. I'm not even close and it's a constant worry that you're going to find someone better," he pointed towards the door, "because there's so much more out there. So much more than _this_ ," he gestured to himself.  

"Niall--"  

"No, you need to hear this. You know why I don't say any of this? Because I trust you. I _trust_ you. And I learned a lot from our relationship, but I always knew it needed trust. And I _trust_ you, every single day, while you're teaching, while you're away, while we're not together. I trust you, even when I feel like I can't. Because if there's anything I care about, it's us. I fucking love you, and I'm tired of this shit, Zayn." He repeatedly jabbed a finger in Zayn's direction. "If there's no trust, why the fuck are we in a relationship? Why are we together, Zayn?" He expected an answer, but Zayn couldn't even form a _thought_ at Niall's confession because. Because he never even hinted at it. Never was there an implication thrown or never did he pick up a timid glance from Niall in a situation that called for him to leave or anything. And what boggled his mind was the fact he had no reason to feel that way when he unintendedly spoke of Niall in every class of his (not giving a name, though), when he cooked every meal with thoughts of Niall, when looking for an inspiration for an art piece, all he had to think of was Niall's laugh that erased tension in a room or the easy ways he brought a smile on his face when he couldn't think of a new assignment to give students. Niall misinterpreted his silence with hesitation, like he didn't know how to answer. So he dropped the bag in his hand on the table and walked away. "Enjoy this shit by yourself."  

"Wait, Niall. Let me explain--"  

"Go _fuck_ yourself!" he screamed, already at the top of the steps. He felt ashamed, he felt dirty and misled. If Zayn didn't trust him, what the fuck were they doing? "Why the fuck are we together then?!" he added, slamming the guest bedroom door shut.

It took a minute, maybe two or three, a little more than five until Zayn moved. He forced his legs to bring him towards the table, opening the bag Niall brought. It was blatantly the Eggplant Rigatoni, a bottle of his favorite blush wine joining it. It had cracks on its surface when Niall dropped it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry. . .


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I am so sorry! I hate waiting for updates myself so this was not my intention, believe me. I hope this makes up for the wait. Ily xx

 So, they hadn't spoken in a few days. Seventeen, to be exact, if Niall was counting. If.  

Art class was fatally and soul-wrenchingly awkward, so awkward Niall just looked down at the plain sheet of paper in front of him for the whole period. He was sure Harry and Louis knew. He was sure the whole fucking class knew with him bolting out of his seat the second the bell rang instead of floating his way towards Zayn's desk. (Yes, floating. Like a lovestruck nerd yearning for the head cheerleader. Did he just compare himself to a nerd? Did he just compare Zayn to a _cheerleader_?) Liam stopped asking how things were the third time Niall dodged the question with the same complaint that their coach was killing him with the required nutritional guidelines. (Not that he even followed it, but Liam didn't know that.) (He did, though.)  

It hurt, if he sat to think about it. It bloody hurt with each patch of his skin and every time he showered and shaved and ate and studied; it hurt. They didn't break up, they still came home at night and would leave an extra plate of food for the other when they cooked. But whatever they were, this unspoken label, was hurting Niall. And he felt drenched with guilt for closing their discussion the way he did. Zayn was still to blame, but for only half of it. And if there was anything he wished for, it was to listen to Zayn when he warned him about Alice.  

Classes were almost over, marking their third anniversary. Niall would be done with uni now, so there wasn't anything solid to look forward to after summer. And the _summer_. What was he supposed to do now? He could work extra shifts, but he was already pushing it with maintaining two at the moment, sometimes taking a third if he didn't feel drained enough so he could crash once getting home. He wasn't a part of the football team now, with graduating and whatnot. And he really really did not want to tell Liam or Louis of his current problem. They were happy.  

He didn't know if Zayn was avoiding him or giving him space. He didn't know which one was better. He just knew it felt weird not having Zayn in bed at night. It was sad how Zayn wasn't a text or phone call away. Well, he _was_ , but given the state they were in? Yeah. And he realized Liam was right. He was dependent. When he'd make himself coffee or tea, he didn't know how to make it as sweet as Zayn did. He woke up late on too many mornings because Zayn's lips weren't pressed into his neck or forehead or bicep at the faint light of dawn, taking him out of slumber. He drove himself to and from school instead of using the extra minutes in the morning drive to catch up on sleep. And dinner was difficult to make on the days he came home early. But he still made something. The internet was in reach.  

It wasn't fine, is the thing. Not fine at all how it had to take the both of them to stop speaking for Niall to realize this. So he took matters into his own hands. He put his alarm early enough to clean the kitchen. He filled the gastank when it deemed worthy to instead of waiting till the last minute, as usual. He searched how to make edible meals that were calorie-efficient on YouTube, copying the instructor's moves with the right ingredients and appliances in the kitchen. He washed the clothes, put them away, ironed Zayn's outfit when he knew he was called for a meeting, ironed his own clothes when Louis and him were attending a friend of theirs' bachelor party. The house reeked of floral antiseptic, the fridge stayed full and the front lawn was always kempt. He was doing this for himself, yes. But the message rung clear, clear as the windowpanes he scrubbed at roughly until his knuckles burned red.  

_I'm sorry._  

They spoke gradually. Zayn arrived home one day unannounced as Niall was taking pasta out of the oven. He set it on the counter carefully, jumping when Zayn spoke.

"How was your day?"  

" _Shit_. I-- Um. I didn't know you got out early."  

"Didn't get out early, really. Just decided to, ditch. Yeah." Niall hummed out a short laugh, barely audible.

"That's good," he responded while wiping his hands on his pants. It was so awkward he might as well have whistled a note, only stopping when his lungs gave out. He turned towards Zayn, and noticed the corners of his eyes stooped low, and he wore a frown, all throughout looking at Niall. Niall witnessed every kind of Zayn's face there were. Or he thought he did. But no. No, no, no. Zayn was looking at him. . . expectantly. And defeatedly, almost. A look of, finalization.  

No.  

Not here.  

Not--  

"I have to go," Niall said suddenly, before Zayn could respond. Not here. Not _here_.  

"Wait, we have to talk."  

"Yeah, okay. Um, I'll be home later? Sorry, I promised a friend I'd watch his... dog. While he went on a date." He turned away before Zayn could see his expression, the way he almost slapped his forehead and stuttered out a breath.  

"His dog?"  

"Yeah, see you later. Bye."  

Because of the abrupt departure, he wasn't do for his shift for about three hours. He called his mum. As always, she was vibrant when he called first, bordering on surprise. Not that he didn't _call_  as much. . .yeah, he just didn't call as much. Of course, he loved his family wholly and they were one of the best things to ever happen to him, but distance did that to him. Distance unconsciously made _him_ distant. The lack of social proximity had him inching away slowly. It wasn't his fault; he wasn't even aware of it. It was just a trait he had, and Zayn knew this.  

"Oh, baby, what's wrong?" she cooed, instant mother-predatory senses seeping through the speakers.  

"M'fine," he muttered around biting his nail, propping his foot on the dashboard as the phone was placed in the cup holder. "How's Katie? And Theo? Do you see him often?"

 "Niall," she warned. "What's wrong with Zayn?" Fucking hell, why did mums have to know? Or why couldn't they just _not_ bring it up if they didn't want to talk about it?

He first told her about Zayn a few months into the relationship. It had been an uncomfortable confession, what with Maura being scarcely tolerant of homosexuality. (She wasn't homophobic, but was brought up with a strong influence against it.) "Mum, I'm. _Really_ feeling him. Like, I think I love him," he had forced out before his lungs fully closed on him, running shaking fingers through his hair. Her initial reaction was. . .well, mortified, and Niall couldn't really blame her since that was his first reaction. It grew a patch of rough land between them until two months later right before they hung up their call, she squeezed out, _say hello to Zayn for me._ By now, she was in love with him, sometimes whining why wasn't he straight. Niall didn't mind. Danielle and Louis' little sisters said the same.  

"What? Nothing at all! Come on, mum. Pssh. We're good."  

"Uh huh. Did he hurt you?"

 "No," he whined, his tone giving away that yes, there was a problem, but _ugh I love him I don't know what to do with myself I don't wanna talk about it_.  

"All right," she sighed, "what happened?"  So Niall told her the major details, the misunderstandings and arguments, up to just now when he left.

"I don't _want_  to think, but I think he's gonna break up with me."  

"That is absurd. I'm not going to ask why you think that, Niall," she voiced, as if Niall was in the wrong.  

"Mum, I'm not-- I don't know. He just gave me this look and he said we needed to talk, so."  

"It's been a few weeks since you last spoken, Niall. Of course you need to talk." He sighed loudly, looking out the foggy window where a woman was hugging her coat to herself, seeking warmth from the brisk wind.  

"I don't want him to end it."  

"He's not going to. You're too infuriating to leave."  

"Wow. Thanks, mum," he laughed. Clearly he wasn't _that_  much of a handful. Clearly.  

"And even if he was, which I doubt _so_ much, love, it doesn't mean it's the end. It doesn't mean you can't fight for it again. Breakups aren't _final_ , they don't decide how it goes from there. You have the advantage of working on it again or just allowing the breakup to speak for the both of you."  

"I hate when you make sense."  

"Honey, he looks at you like no one else matters. That doesn't come around often. If I'm certain of anything, it's that the two of you are _final_."  

"Now you just sound like a movie."

"Would I lie?" And no, she wouldn't. That was the best and worst thing about her. She was honest. Brutally honest.

"No, I guess not."  

"So go get him." He mutterd a noise of discomfort, sinking more into the driverseat.  

"I kind of ran out on him earlier."  

"Oh God," she groaned.

 So he wasn't avoiding _him_ , he was avoiding what he had to _say_. Because when he got home that night and found Zayn sketching on the desk, his back to him, he hung his head with faux exhaustion and stumbled up the steps, groaning noises. "Oh, hey, Zayn. You had to see how busy the diner was. It practically _killllled meeee_ ," he sung sluggishly. He noticed the way Zayn sat straight from the desk, eyeing him as he made his way into the guestroom.  

The next morning, Zayn knocked lightly on the door, pushing it open a few inches when Niall failed to answer.

"Niall, are you going to class today?" Niall groaned from where his head was under the covers, feigning hurt in his bones.

 "Ugh, man, I gotta headache. Don't think I'm gonna make it today."  

"Do you need a pill?" His voice was closer now, like if he was at the foot of the bed. Niall thanked the duvet over him for hiding the way his eyes bulged and his body froze, almost feeling Zayn just a foot away.  

"No. No, thanks. Just gonna sleep the day away." He heard Zayn's soft sigh, almost inaudible, and the shifting of weight from one black boot to the other.  

"All right. Um, we'll talk later, yeah?" And he could've pictured Zayn's face clearly. One corner of his bottom lip in his mouth, a thick eyebrow curved down and eyes that held little flecks of uncertainty, uncertain how to tell Niall.  

"Yeah," Niall whispered, wishing he was asleep. "Yeah, later."  

"I hope you get better."  

"I hope you enjoy your day." It took seconds after the door closed to breathe out the trapped air in his lungs.

He didn't stay in bed long, rather intent on cleaning the room and wrapping himself around the blanket of _their_  room. Their bed was the same, it had Zayn's scent, and that's what he wanted. So he laid down for an hour, trying to take a nap but the sun slanting in through the blinds-less window hit his face precisely and when he turned the other way it settled against his neck too warmly.  

So after an hour of failed attempts, he texted Louis to meet him at the mall, but not to breathe a word so Zayn wouldn't find out.  

They were eating mexican again, and the familiar surroundings reminded Niall of when Louis first told him about Harry, a lifetime ago.

"Feels like a lifetime ago you told me about Harry."  Louis hummed in agreement, staring intently at the burrito in front of him as if poking out flaws in the pale bread.  "Do you remember? We were here about, what. Three and a half years ago? Sitting over there, though, but. S'all the same," he smiled.  

"How's Zayn?" Louis asked, grasping Niall's attention. "He seemed odd today. I mean, I know you two aren't on good terms right now, but did something happen?" Niall let out a slow breath, looking up at Louis after a moment.  

"Would you tell me if you knew something?"  

"Of course. . . What is that supposed to mean?"

 "Don't tell anyone, especially Harry, um. I think. You know, I think Zayn's gonna break up with me?" He placed his chin on his hand, still looking at Louis as if he didn't just give him such news. It took a moment and three blinks from Louis for a response.  

"That's the dumbest shit I've heard and Harry says a _lot_ of stupid shit."  

"It's not that dumb, Lou. Like, I don't want him to, but. I kind of went too harsh on him the last time, right?" He rubbed his arm, finding assurance in the neon sign blinking atop the diner. "I love him, and. He just looked at me in this way yesterday that," he swallowed, "it looked bad. That's the only way I can put it." He faced Louis now, noting how he stared back in a deadpan fashion.  

"I don't know, Niall. Ever think he wants to talk about where the two of you are? Maybe he wants you back? I don't know, just a suggestion."

 "No, I don't think so. You see--"

 "Exactly, you _don't_ think, Niall. He loves you. He's not going to fucking break up with you, all right? Seriously, that's a poor excuse to avoid him."  

"How do you know I'm avoiding him?"  

"Please, if he still hasn't told you, it's obviously because you're not letting him. Grow a pair and talk to him."  

Niall agreed. He needed to grow a pair. He _will_ grow a pair. Just not today, he told himself everytime he managed to squeeze away from Zayn.

_I'm helping Joe with this project_

_Giving Josh a few pointers since he'll be captain next year_

_My boss is making me work early today_

_Ripped a shirt of Louis'. Gotta buy him a new one before he finds out_

_But we'll talk later, right?_

Always, the same thing. Because as long as he didn't know, he could lie to himself and think  _Zayn only needs to talk about that assignment I missed_  or _I shouldn't fall asleep in class_ or _I bet my Econ professor told him something about me unconsciously_. Anything, he told himself anything. It kept him awake some nights, because though he didn't want to know, the unknown was tearing through his skin also. He would sit in the windowsill, the window that faced the backyard and remember when they invited Liam, Louis and Harry over for a quick jump in the pool, and he came out shivering and Zayn instantly dropped a towel over his shoulders, laughing at his chattering teeth. Or just months ago when Zayn and him promised _forever_. He thought and remembered a lot of things in the milky moonlight, the room light off, a warm blanket wrapped around him with his nail between his teeth. The unknown was just as bad.

It was day twenty-nine. In any other situation, he would congratulate himself for going this long. But there was nothing to celebrate. Zayn gave up on him sometimes, Niall knew this. Because for a few days in a row, he would barely glance at Niall, barely wake him up on mornings Niall wasn't up yet. And this tore straight through him. His mind a constant screech of No No _No Fucking No_. Days like that had his brain wiring and fixing itself into a state of self-determination and brevity, but still, he couldn't bring himself to even look up from his bowl when Zayn left or even turn away from the TV when Zayn arrived or even open his eyes when Zayn walked down the steps.  

_Zayn Zayn Zayn_.

It was a lovable curse, sweet and sharp in the pit of his heart; the unknown took over the rest of his body. He told himself once that maybe this was for the best, maybe he should be the one to confront Zayn and just end it because Zayn didn't need anyone tying him down. It was great, while it lasted. It was great and Niall learned so much about himself and about the world, literally. Zayn wasn't smart, he was _intelligent_. He knew things that didn't even make sense to Niall and he'd explain them in a way that had him feeling stupid because it was so obvious. And Zayn would just tell him _you learn a new thing everyday_ or _not a lot of people pay attention to that anyway, love_. Zayn was too compassionate for his own sake but was strong enough to deflect poor things around him. He was kind of impenetrable, only coming back to the world and being, well, _human_  when Niall needed him to. Niall needed him, in every way there was and it was pathetic and bad and Niall didn't care. He didn't care. He just wanted Zayn to smile. But it wasn't enough that he found the courage to change anything. That was the worst part.

It was day thirty-three, in the music room strumming a new piece on an acoustic guitar he never held before, that Zayn texted him.  

_Call me, please._

He almost broke a string under the pressure of his fingers that pressed down too hard. No one was around, no one was there to distract him. He couldn't say he was working because Zayn knew his schedule. He couldn't say he was with Louis or a few team members because Zayn could aimelessly text him and classes ended yesterday for him. Tomorrow was Graduation and of course Zayn would want to tell him now, of fucking course it would be on the day before graduation; Zayn would be there and Niall knew he didn't want it to be awkward. Niall knew how good of a person he was, how he still wanted to congratulate him and he couldn't do that with the weight of the _news_ on his shoulders.

Niall realized he called when Zayn's voice was heard through the phone. Under the drench of his thoughts, his hand must've mindlessly grab the phone, dialing the number he knew by heart.

"Niall?" His voice, etched by the phone line, was confused, perplexed. Somewhere, maybe in the house or over Harry's or just _somewhere_ , Zayn was talking to him, all his attention focused on this conversation. Jesus Christ, why did he sound so intent for this conversation.  

"Zayn, hi," he breathed, or stuttered. This was inevitable. Zayn at least gave Niall the illusion of escape. He was grateful, really fucking grateful because this time it gave him a pinpoint of sanity, it prepared him in a way. He was so so so grateful and broken at the same time. "Hi, Zayn," he repeated.  

"Um, hey," he whispered, as if Niall woke up from a coma and he had to talk softly to him, careful not to puncture the still air between them. "Hey, where are you?" he asked, trying to seem distracted, like he wasn't about to lay something serious. But Niall knew. He _fucking_ knew and why the _fuck_ did he ever walk into Zayn's class that first time because this wasn't worth it. The stutter and hammer of his heart wasn't worth it. He felt like throwing up. He _wanted_ to throw up. He wanted to _throw up_.

"Just in uni," he whispered. "Found a new guitar in here. Did you know? Ever play the drums lately? It's in the," he trailed, not bothering to continue. Zayn didn't question his pause either. Niall closed his eyes slowly, bringing a hand to pinch the bridge of his nose. _What the fuck, man,_  he mouthed to the floor between his sneaker clad feet. They were a pair Zayn gave him. Black with thick white soles.

 "Niall," he started. "Look, um. I didn't want to do this through the phone, but--" 

"Don't." Niall forced a breath to form the word, to make it audible and strong though his hand was physically shaking where it was still against his face. "Zayn, you can't. Not like this," he whispered. His foot began to tap without a command, jittery and on edge like the rest of his body. He sighed, sighed till his lungs gave out, sighed till his chest ached. "You can't break up with me like this." _Not through the phone. Not when I have to see you later. Not when I don't have a place of my own. Not ever._ It took a stilled moment for Zayn to respond.  

"What? No. _No_. I'm not-- Jesus, I'm not breaking _up_  with you. Christ, why would you _say_ that?" Niall's lung gave out on him halfway through his remark. Zayn sounded irritated, bothered, like that was crazy and absurd and uncalled for. Niall didn't say anything for a while, because his whole body was forcing itself to keep his relief inside. He was seconds away from crying out. "Hey," Zayn said after a beat too long, so soft and gentle, careful, like holding Niall's neck up the way he did when he entered him slowly. And _why_ was Niall thinking of this now? "Baby, are you okay? Did you really think I was going to break up with you?" That was the bomb that broke Niall's barrier.  

"I thought you were gonna break my heart," he rushed out before the sobs took over. And he was pitiful, a pitiful sobbing mess and he thought to himself _shut up shut up shut up_. But Zayn kept uttering soft assurances and sweet things, like, "it's okay, baby. You don't have to cry. Just let it out, okay? I'll be here when you're ready to talk. I love you, you know. It's okay, baby," in a relentless cycle and Niall wanted to tell _him_ to _shut up shut up shut up_ because each of Zayn's affectionate comforts tugged at his tear vessels, releasing another pool to run down his face.  

"I'm just," he shrugged, his tone watery and quivering, "so fucking pathetic, sorry."

"No. No, you're not. Listen, I just want to talk, all right? I mean," he paused, and Niall knew he licked his lips, right now he was licking his lips and looking around wherever he was, running a hand through his hair. "We haven't talked. I think we need to talk, right? It's been a while now. I'll pick you up, you're at school, right?"

"I look ugly, no," he croaked. 

"I doubt it. And I saw you cry before."  

"Yeah, but. . . I was drunk."  

"I'm picking you up and that's it."

"Wouldn't you rather talk on the phone?" he tried to reason. "Right, Zayn? Zayn? Hello?" Looking down at his phone, Zayn hung up. He stood up with a slump in his back, sluggish and head bent with jelly arms, groaning while putting the guitar away and walking out the door. He sat on the pavement outside of the parking lot, looking down at his shoes, trying to ease his heart into a steady beat because Zayn wasn't breaking up with him, they were just going to talk. They were fine. Or about to be. So there was no reason for his heart to churn around and beat against the space it was held in. But it didn't help when a familiar twin of headlights licked across the asphalt next to him, stopping to his right when a car parked in front of him. He groaned outloud, praying the ground would swallow him like Persephone; Hades wasn't _that_  bad, right?  

But he did get in the car soon, the ground failed him. Focusing on the dashboard in front of him, his hood was on throughout the ride. Fucking hell, why couldn't someone be in danger down the block, or maybe an engineered overgrown zombie could start running towards innocent pedestrians; anything to break the tension in the car. Or why couldn't Niall turn into the zombie? It didn't seem like a bad idea. And he knew Zayn would take care of him. He wouldn't let anything happen to him. Unless he turned him into a zombie, too. But then they'll be together like in that film with Nicholas Hoult, and they'll be in love and happy and run away together and maybe even--  

"Niall?" his voice shot through his thoughts. They were parked in front of their house, the faint moonlight casting the windowpanes in color and reflecting off the glass frontdoor. The car was off, the headlights following after a moment. The moment. It was. . . eerie, in the most respect of the word. If a pin was to drop, the miniscule thud would make Niall tremble. But nothing dropped, nothing moved. He couldn't even point out a dust particle wafting through the air. And wasn't that a bitch? When he needed a certain point of focus, there was none. There was only him and Zayn a space away from him, unsettled with the stale atmosphere they shedded off in the car. "It's my fault," he confessed at the same time Niall said, "I'm sorry." They laughed for a moment, still not looking at each other. "What are we doing?" Zayn asked himself, looking out the window.

 "Yeah," Niall whispered, shifting down into his seat when Zayn faced him. "What are we doing?" Zayn didn't give anything away. His mouth was set thoughtfully, and he didn't take his eyes off the blond visibly shaking under his gaze. He took off his seatbelt to fully face Niall, grabbing one of his hands between two of his. He looked down at it, pale skin between tan. _Like an oreo_ , Niall had said one time. He smiled at the thought.  

"Niall, you haven't spoken to me in a month. Didn't you think it was time for us to talk?"  

"I saw the way you looked at me the first time you asked to talk. You just looked. . . like you were done, or something."

 "Oh my God." Zayn rolled his eyes. "Didn't I say I love you enough for you not to _ever_ think that? It's going to take more than an indecent suggestion for me to give up."  

"People love all the time, Zayn. Then one day they don't. I thought that was your day."  

"I'm not people, Niall. I don't _love_. I didn't allow myself _to_ love before, you know that. Or at least I thought you did."  

"I know, I do. I just thought. I don't know. I just thought wrong, I guess."  

"You guess," Zayn whispered with a laugh, shaking his head with it. But then his face turned dark. His gaze fell on their hands and giving it a soft squeeze, he spoke again, low and somber. "If we're being honest here, I thought you ended it that night. You just stormed off, Niall, like. Like you didn't care. I know I shouldn't have accused you of anything, but. You just left me there, you know? And then you continued to avoid me," he finished, barely audible by the end. Niall took his hand away to hug Zayn tightly, fitting his face into his neck to kiss away the timidity settling around Zayn because he suddenly stilled. It took a few dry kisses and pecks on his cheeks for Zayn to blink.

"Zayn, come on. I know I was mad as shit and yes, I agree, that was wrong, but I didn't break up with you. And if I did, you'd deserve way more than. . . than how I ended it. I would never do that. You know that, right?" Zayn just locked eyes with him, his mouth immoblie for the moment. "Right?"

"You're such a prick. I know that now."

 "Shit," Niall sighed. "Don't jump to conclusions and assume crap. Just confront me." Zayn definitely didn't answer. He didn't need to. His look was an answer enough. He raised a brow, his nose flared, and the muscles in his jaw jumped. "What?" he whispered under Zayn's glare.  

"I don't know, Niall. Maybe I would've confronted you if you didn't constantly dodge me." Niall averted his gaze towards the house and shifted back in his seat.  

"I never dodged you," he muttered.

"Right."  

"I'm sorry, though. For all of it."

 "You don't need to apologize."

"I'll feel better if I do, though. So. Yeah, I'm really sorry. I don't even know what I was _thinking_  walking away like that. That was unnecessay, I know it was. I'm really _really_ sorry, Z. I just love you. And, it's annoying when you think I'd cheat. And you're annoying on a daily basis, so," he shrugged sheepishly. "I'm not good at apologies. But I'm trying now."  

"Don't strain yourself."  

"Don't interrupt me."  

"I thought I was annoying. I need to live up to my name."  

"Idiot." It took barely a moment before Zayn's serious facade broke into a grin. Small, but it still made the corner of his eyes wrinkle a bit. He sat back in his seat, running his thumb over the steering wheel.

"I love you, too. But you know that."

"Can I kiss you?"  

"No."  

" _Why_?"

"Are we on solid ground?"  

"Well, we're parked on the street."

"Ha ha. I'm serious." Niall let the silence between them drag for a while.

"I want us to be. It's up to you," he whispered.  

"Good," Zayn nodded, closing his eyes. "Yeah, we're good. And I love you. Please don't forget that. Ever. And I don't like fighting. Arguing, that's fine. But fighting, that's not. It doesn't solve anything. I know I started it so again, I'm sorry."  

"Yeah, me too. And fighting sucks, it does." He rested his head to the side, looking at Zayn who still had his eyes shut. "Love you."

"Love you, too."  

"I wanna kiss you."  

"Not now."

"Ok _ay. Why_?"  

"This moment needs to last longer. You're distracting." Niall counted ten seconds from his watch.

"Now?"  

"Shut up, Niall."

Another thirty seconds. "I think now."  

"Shut _up_."  

"Come on, please. I like your mouth. I really really like your mouth. It's so pretty and you kiss so good and I could be asking for your dick, but I'm being nice." Zayn turned to him slowly and blinked once. "All right, whatever. The moment," Niall huffed, folding his arms and looking out his window. "This is so stupid," he harshly whispered after a bit. He swayed his knee from side to side, watching the material of his pants stretch to adjust. He saw the moon reflected through the side mirror and tried to count the dents on its surface from this view. He sighed loudly and matched his breathing to Zayn's. Only for a moment. "Oh, come on, this is getting--" he turned and was cut off by Zayn's mouth, one tan hand gripping the back of his neck and the other grabbing at his rib, bringing him onto Zayn's lap. Zayn's mouth was cold, but not chapped. Why couldn't his lips be chapped? It would've been more fair for Niall because he was already panting out gasps. It was like kissing glass, melted glass that molded into the shape of ripe lips that stung when they bit Niall and left a wet trail when his tongue darted out to trace his lips. The universe was unfair, the universe was so unfair.    

"Fuck, that was pointless," he breathed into Zayn's hair when the man latched onto his neck, accustomed to the spot that would have Niall writhing and trembling if he kept the skin inside his suckling mouth.  

"You're _infuriating_ ," he retorted between his teeth that grazed over the pale column. The sudden comment had Niall laughing because, what a coincidence. But then it wasn't funny anymore, and his laugh turned into an exhalation that deprived him of air, making his eyes expand in the darkness when he felt a hand trail inside the back of his pants, curving to shape his bum. Zayn's mouth was still on his neck; it was still there releasing heated kisses and collecting the spit that trailed down the side of his mouth when he became too focused on turning the skin violet, turning the flawless canvas into a piece of art only he knew well enough to create; only _he_  was able to do this, fucking _no one_ else. Damn the world and everyone if they _ever_ thought they could touch Niall.  

"Zayn," he whimpered, swallowing to moisten his dry throat. He was still sucking on the skin, varying the patches he'd bite into, almost tearing the surface before running his tongue over it, soothing the cry from Niall. His hand squeezed into the flesh of his arse, pressing dents in the shape of nails on the inside of the crevice. Niall continued to flinch in his lap when Zayn would bite a certain nerve or cause too much blood to appear under the skin. And Niall couldn't see it, but he felt it. He felt teeth too sharp for such a fragile piece of body element, but the incisors grazed the column, almost like a caress, a gentle caress before pushing into the skin and sucking until he was lightleaded and unable to move besides jolting. "Zayn, can we-- go inside. Please?" He pulled on the raven hair, trying to detach from him, but it only made the mouth tighten its grip and suck harshly, almost painfully.  

"I'm having you here."

"But." He gulped. "No. No, don't tell me that. We're in the car."  

"Since when did that bother you?"

"Since I haven't gotten fucked in a month. Come on, please? I'll be good."  

"When are you ever good?" he asked, moving a trail up Niall's jaw. "Please enlighten me."  

"You're making this hard for me, in the literal sense." Zayn sat back, smirking as he thrusted his hips up. Niall jumped from the movement, sliding higher on Zayn's lap and instinctly gripping the man's shoulders. He felt how hard Zayn was, right behind him. And he knew what he was doing, he always fucking knew what he was doing. He was slowly rubbing up on Niall, sliding his erection between his bum while he splayed his hands on top of Niall's thighs. "Z, please don't do this to me. I'll let you do whatever you want, just. _Please_ please please let's go." He was verging on desperation, with red-smack cheeks and tousled hair, eyes too bright and vulnerable in the dark space as he stared down at Zayn.

 "I always do what I want, baby. And I plan to take my time with you. You're not the only one who's dying to fuck you."

 "So why don't we go inside? Or fuck me here?"  

"Because," he said through teeth, pulling the back of Niall's hair to rest against his shoulder blade, whispering into his ear. "You graduate tomorrow." He continued to move against Niall who squirmed on his lap, his dick jabbing into Zayn's tight abdomen. "I want to see you in your robe, love. All dressed up and prepared. You deserve it. You deserve everything." He softly kissed his temple before making Niall lock eyes with him, giving a sharp thrust that had blue eyes rolling into his head. "And then I want to strip you out of it." A tan hand moved between them, gripping the head of Niall's cock and having the young boy drop his mouth from the contact, eyes fluttering closed. "Look at me," Zayn ordered, only continuing after his boyfriend obeyed, panting and fighting the arousal that threatened to clog his senses as he struggled to keep staring. "I want to take you apart piece by piece, slowly. I want you writhing in the sheets as I rip you into shreds." His hand was in Niall's pants now, moving in time to his thrusts. The clothes added a rough friction to everything, but Niall couldn't move, was only able to stare back at Zayn, mouth gaped open trying to get in enough air, but there wasn't enough. "I want you desperate, on edge, in _agony_ , but so aroused you can't bring yourself to say what you want." His focus was momentarily shattered when Niall moved down on him, unable to keep still with everything going around him. His dick was right under him, practically in between him, almost inside of him. "I want to _ruin_ you. I want you to be a mess under me, around me. I want you to only feel me, I want you to only _know_ me. I want you to cry and thrash and I want you to fall asleep with me still in you, unable to keep up because you've been stretched beyond your limits and you're so loose with it."  

" _Zayn_. Do something. Please, right here. Right now just-- _fuck_." All through Zayn's talk he was pushing into Zayn's hands frantically, trying to find release but Zayn wasn't gripping tight enough or Zayn wouldn't let him move quick enough or Zayn wouldn't pump at all because he was close. Zayn was everywhere and nowhere and he needed to come. "Please," he whispered. Tears sprung out of his eyes, trailing down the side of his face and dropping from his chin, but he didn't notice. "Can you fuck me? Don't prep me, just. Fucking something. You _fuck-- Tease_."

"I can't fuck you," he groaned, pumping to stop Niall's tears from falling. "I want you to be able to walk down tomorrow." That was Niall's undoing.  

They did take a bath together, and while Zayn washed his hair, Niall grumbled about the unnecessary size of the tub that was too big and he sat stubbornly the whole time after Zayn filled it up again with just hot water and bubbles. "This is so gay," he continued to grumble.  

"Just shut up and enjoy this."  

"You've been saying shut up a lot."

"You've been acting more like a baby a lot."  

"Well, I do have a month to make up," he beamed, leaning back to look up at Zayn. He bit his lip with a smile and droplets gathered on his eyelashes. Zayn just looked down at him, feeling the water lap against the lip of the tub a few times before forming the words to say.

 "Don't do that again," he said, but it wasn't an order. It was more of a plea. Niall's face fell of humor, and he turned to stare directly at him.  

"What do you mean?"  

"You can't just walk away like that."  

"Are we talking about this again?"

 "Yes, Niall. We are. You weren't the one just standing there. Do you have _any_ idea how that affected me?" His brows pulled down in the middle, and his mouth was set in a line. Niall shuddered even though he was submerged in warm water, but Zayn's glare. . . was more hurt than malicious. "You don't just up and go. You don't _do_ that, all right?"  

"Okay. Okay, I'm sorry," he said, crestfallen. "I was just mad. I know that's not an excuse and I'm not using it as an excuse, believe me. I'm just trying to let you know I didn't walk away to be spiteful."  He placed both hands flat on Zayn's chest, feeling his heart beat against his palm. "Z, look at me, please. Don't be mad. Please don't be mad. I'm sorry. I'm so _fucking_ sorry, you have no idea. I'm surprised you're even talking to me." He kissed his wet tan shoulder, closing his eyes when his lips settled there before pulling back. "I just don't want to bring it up again. If you have more to say, I won't stop you. I'll let you talk and I won't interrupt until you're done. I just don't want to talk about it after here." After a little, Zayn shrugged halfheartedly, looking to the side as he muttered he was just happy Niall was there, with him. Niall lifted his chin and pecked him once, twice, before straddling his hips.

 "Niall, I said--"

 "No, no, no. I'm not trying to seduce you or anything. I just want to be close to you, promise," he spoke, telling the truth.

 "And I should trust your word," Zayn laughed, rolling his eyes but placing hands on his boyfriend's hips. He didn't notice how Niall almost choked on his tongue.

 "Zayn?"  

"Yes, baby?"

"You do trust me. Don't you? You didn't mean it that night, right?"  

"Of course, what are you-- oh." It dawned on him slowly. " _Oh_. Oh, Niall. Of course, I do. Hell, I was just shocked at what you said." He rubbed water off of Niall's chin, pressing down on it to have his bottom lip jut out. "Did you really mean all that you said that night?"

 ". . . I don't know what you're talking about."  

"You said you were going to let me talk about that night just this once."  

"But it doesn't mean I'd want to answer anything," he whispered uncomfortably, slumping his shoulders. Zayn rubbed up his thighs under the water, taking in how soft they were under his palms.  

"Love, I told you countless of times how much you mean to me, _what_  you mean to me, how there's no one else. And I'm not a believer in destiny and stuff, but I _know_ you're. . . you're it, Niall. Because let it be someone else with your antics and your filthy mouth and laziness and tendency to just cause chaos _everywhere_ , and I wouldn't be able to handle it. I would _hate_ them. I actually hate everyone like that. Except you. And if that doesn't mean something, I don't know what does." He licked his lips to pause, noticing how Niall's eyes never left his, they stayed open throughout his whole confession. "I love you, I made that clear, but if I haven't made it clear that there's no one else, _no one else_ , that can take your place, and," he began to whisper, "if I make you feel like you're going to be replaced, then I must not be doing a good job. And that's what kills me the most." Niall's eyes watered a little, he didn't notice. He only noticed Zayn and the vulnerability he was wearing. "Baby, listen to me, all right?" he asked softly, brushing away the tears before they fell. "I need you to not think that way, okay? I need you to. Please, for me. I need you to know it's only you and I need you to be obnoxious about it, if you have to. Because I'm not going anywhere."  

"I'm not going anywhere either, Zayn. But it seems like you don't know that also," he croaked. "You're _demented_ ," he scorned, banging his head on the inked shoulder. "I don't want to talk anymore," he whispered.

"Do you want to get out?"  

"No," he added into his shoulder, turning to lay down with his back against Zayn's chest. Zayn merely drained the tub of the lukewarm water while turning on the faucets, emitting a steam in the room. [_Six Days at the Bottom of the Sea_](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4vTfdZW7mkg) continued to play from the open door in Zayn's room when Niall dragged his body down until his lips were at level with the water, blowing bubbles against the surface. Zayn looked down at him, running his fingers in the frizzy bleached hair tips in front of him.  

"Your natural hair color's coming back," he cheered. Niall just groaned into the water. Zayn pulled him more towards him, widening his legs for him to fit properly. With the boy pressed against him, he used one hand to tap the puckered nipples under the water before flicking Niall's navel. "Beep...beep...boop," he whispered into his ear, and Niall giggled, raising his face and covering his mouth because Zayn's hands latched onto his sides, sinking his fingers and tickling under the layers of skin.

 "Zayn," he chuckled, trying to get up but the man's grip on him was tight. " _Za-a-ayn_ ," he continued when his eyes turned to slits and his stomach retracted into itself under Zayn's prawning fingers. His laugh filled the room and drained the guitar strings a couple feet away from them, and it only made Zayn want to make him laugh more. He started laughing himself when Niall's failed attempt at climbing away resulted in him flopping back into him and creating a wave to splash over the lip.

"You're wetting the floor!" he laughed and allowed Niall to squirm away. He crawled until he reached the end of the robe and wrapped himself around it; it was too big when he wore it anyway. Standing up and getting his breathing rate to normal, he turned around to see Zayn stepping out as well. A smile was permanent on his face and he just looked at Niall, laughing. His tan hand skimmed through liquid-filled hair to push it back and Niall watched the droplets of water trail down his body. They ran down the middle of his abdomen, traced the outline of the gun on his hipbone, and they all gathered on the tip of his soft dick between his thighs, before falling silently towards the floor.  

Niall didn't look away, and neither did Zayn. He knew that look. _They_ knew that look. Fuck tomorrow, fuck the next minute because Niall wanted him now. And despite what he said, Zayn was _going_ to have him now. "C'mon," Zayn muttered, tilting his head challengingly.  

Zayn didn't ruin him that night, too submerged in the feeling of Niall riding him, too submerged in watching his boyfriend use his body to pleasure himself. Niall grinded down fervently without thought, just in fucking _love_ with the sparks popping behind his eyelids, in love with the cock constantly thrashing against his prostate. His nails dug into Zayn's chest absently, and he only noticed how loud he was when Zayn sat up to kiss him mid-moan, the room falling into unsettling silence besides the rubbing of their skin. "Love you," Zayn choked out, eyes blacker than his hair and _he_ was the wrecked one, shaking under Niall's fingertips that trailed up and down the back of his neck. "Love you, you know," he repeated. He came first, gripping Niall's shoulders and pushing deeper inside of him. Niall came after he switched their positions, him on his back and Zayn gripping his waist tightly while slamming into him all throughout the sensitivity and the hisses he let out. The room feel silent until the next morning.

*  

Graduation was phenomenal. Louis and Niall eyed each other from the opposite sides of the stage and laughed into the back of their hand. They were here, four years later. They were here. And maybe the phrase "you find yourself in uni" was true because if Niall was to compare the seventeen-year old him to him now, the difference was painfully obvious.  

"You're still a pain in the ass," Zayn told him when Niall confessed this thought to him. They were still gripping each other, drowning in the sea of red gowns and laughter and the flashes of cameras.

 "I can make that literal," Niall joked, half-joked. But the offer went unnoticed because when Zayn pulled away to look at him clearly, he wore that face. A face Niall only saw four times now. (It was so monumental and rare he numbered them.)

His face was bare, barren and just _void_. And yes, Niall saw him vulnerable many times and even witnessed Zayn tearing up once, just once. But this was. . . different. It was like scraping down layer after layer after layer of rock until you found the diamond, shining and unveiled in all of its unseen glory. That was how Zayn looked now. If this moment was recorded through the lens of Niall's eyes, the apparent blur and dim of his surroundings would've been taped because _nothing else_ mattered. Nothing but the smirk on Zayn's face, so small it'd go unnoticed if you weren't paying attention. Nothing but the gold specks in his eyes that shimmered, vibrating with all the adoration pouring out. And Niall knew from the pit of all known to mankind that Zayn loved him, but it amazed him and left him _speechless_  when he saw him like this. The effect was far greater than Zayn's lips working over his body or Zayn moving into him to the point Zayn's hips ached with the relentless push and pull of them. This look was everything. It told everything and it formed the words Zayn had always been trying to tell Niall but was never able to find the right words; because no words could justify the amount of _feeling_ he had for his young boy. Words did him wrong and touches failed him because it wasn't enough. It didn't leave him feeling satisfied that Niall knew. Because yes, Niall _knew_ as much as he could, but there was always a new way to express it and there was never enough ways.  

There was never enough air to breathe when this happened. And Niall could forget they were in public, surrounded by his peers and Zayn's coworkers. He could forget there were suspicious students looking at them at the moment. He could forget this was just the beginning of something he wasn't prepared for. Zayn trailed the back of his hand down Niall's cheek, stopping at his chin to softly pinch the dent in between. "I'm proud of you," he confessed, still wearing the face. "I love you."

 "I love you, too, Zayn," he laughed lightly, because Zayn wasn't looking away. His pale face was growing red under his gaze, and all he felt was Zayn's hand on his chin.  

"I _love_  you," he stressed again, cupping Niall's face to press a kiss on his forehead before hugging him tightly. "Come on, let's go home."  

"No," he whined. "I wanna go to the graduation party."  

"But I'm not done with you," Zayn whined back, causing Niall to giggle into his shoulder. Pulling away from him, he pushed a strand of hair out of Niall's face.  

"Well, my ass still stings from yesterday. And my hips and lowerback hurt from doing all the work."  

"You were the persistent one."

"You loved it."  

"I did," he smiled with a roll of his eyes, relenting towards the party.  

It wasn't that grand, to be honest. The music wasn't loud enough, the drinks were warm by the time they got there, and the atmosphere was. . . fading. It was Zayn's fault they got there late, actually. If he would've skipped buying Niall balloons and a bouquet of hibiscuses (Niall's favorite flowers, though he'd never admit it), they probably would've gotten there at the prime of the celebration. "I'm not a girl," Niall had grumbled when Zayn gave them to him, but he stuffed his face into the floral scent for the duration of the ride.

Zayn was worried being the only professor would give something away, with the way he mindlessly stuck to Niall's side, but Harry was there under the pressured request of half his students. And there were a few others there, from Odin knows where. "Is this the ideal graduation party?" Zayn murmured, leaning down so only Niall could hear. Niall perked up at that, looking away from the questionable cup of alcohol in his hands.  

"What do you mean?"  

"I don't know if you've noticed, but I find it a little odd that I see many of my colleagues here. I don't remember my festivity having any."

"But only the cool ones are here," Niall smiled, pointing to the scattered teachers. "Like, Professor Bunetta. Have you ever listened to the songs he's written? Seriously, they're great. And Mrs. Roth, I heard she can drink you under the table," he laughed quietly into Zayn's shoulder. "Mr. Matzke isn't the greatest at teaching, but he's a really good person to talk to, you know? I like him. I was actually the one who invited him, just in case you got bored."  

"And?" Zayn asked when Niall didn't continue.

 "Um...well, you know Harry. Always goofing around and being funny when he doesn't mean to be."

"And?"  

"Is there someone else I'm missing?" he asked, looking around the room until Zayn laughed incredulously.  

"Yes, you are! What about me?" Niall let out an _Ohhhh_  before swallowing down the rest of the drink. He placed the cup on the counter next to them before slowly looking up to Zayn. He smiled lightly, but even the blue of his eyes smiled with it.

"Well," he started, sighing carelessly and keeping his voice low. "There's a professor here that you might know, but. He keeps to himself. His name's Mr. Malik, do you know him?"

"No, I'm afraid I don't. Please elaborate," Zayn asked, rubbing his chin as if he was actually interested. Niall rolled his eyes, but the smile on his face didn't vanish.  

"He's not standing too far from here," he whispered, putting an obscured hand on Zayn's hip. "He's really sexy. Like, easily the sexiest person in this room. You might be able to spot him easily now."

"But there's a lot of hot people here, like you. It might take a while." Niall grumbled before tilting his head in thought.  

"Well, he's tall. And lean. Wears a leather jacket all the time and looks young for his age." Zayn nodded all through this, putting on the best poker face and acting as if this was all new information. "He has black hair, soft when you touch it. And even softer after it's washed," he whispered, not looking away. "His complexion is the perfect tan, too. The tan models die for. And it brings out the color of his eyes so explicitly, it's. It's almost _scary_ ," he huffed when Zayn gazed down at him then. "It's scary, how bright they get, when he stares at you. Too intense to be brown. Too bright to be hazel." He licked his lips absently and Zayn's eyes flickered to it before locking back with Niall's. "He's really handsome, so handsome it's hard to look away sometimes," he laughed breathlessly. "And he's one of those people who leave a mark on you after you meet them, because he's just so," he trailed when Zayn leaned in a bit closer, close enough that his eyes crossed. "So smart, and understanding, and just so interesting that. It's hard to not want to meet him again." His voice lowered and he allowed himself to look down at Zayn's lips. "And it's even harder to stay away from him."  

Zayn shuddered, physically shuddered and closed his eyes with it. "We should get home," he suggested. Niall went to agree before a slightly-tipsy Harry appeared, pulling him towards the front.

"Hey, guys," he beamed happily, a bit too happily, bordering on disturbing. "Hey, Zayn. Looks like the oldies here are speaking up front. Isn't that weird? I don't remember doing that last year."  

"What do you mean?" Zayn asked, an eyebrow curled down in confusion.  

"I'm not sure yet, but they know over there. So let's go."  

"Wait, where's Louis?" Niall asked, but he guessed Harry was too drunk to hear him because he was already pulling Zayn away. The blond found his best friend in the kitchen, surveying the remaining drinks. "Dude, what's up with Harry?"  

"Who knows," Louis remarked, paying extra attention to a bottle of beer that wasn't dripping a reasonable amount of condensation. "Hey, try this. See if it's still good." He went to give it to Niall when a familiar voice bellowed through the sudden open space where everyone started to gather. They went and found Harry standing on a low table; it was tall enough that he was easily seen throughout the room. "What the fuck is he doing?"

"'Ello, everyone! How are my people doing?" he asked a bit too loudly, too happily, with arms spread open wide. The crowd laughed, voices uttering around saying _you're too drunk, you're hot, get off the stage, have my babies!_ It all only made Harry smile more, eyes crinkling dramatically. "Now, now, children. There's no need to fight. Let's just all gather 'round and tell stories about our time in uni." By the middle of his suggestion, the crowd booed in unison before he swallowed and turned to someone behind him. "All right, why don't we ask Professor Malik what to do. Anyone here familiar with a Malik?" The crowd erupted then, and Niall hung his head in laughter, thinking what the fuck was Harry doing.  

"Oh God, this is going to be great," he murmured to Louis. Niall turned to Harry who seemed like he was having a playful argument with Zayn, as if persuading him to join him on the table.  

"Oh, lads," he whined, "Malik seems a bit shy. Who's willing to give him a boost?" Cheers echoed, with the occasional _I'll give you anything you want_ breaking through and being heard from everyone, even from Niall (but he wasn't the only one, so it was fine). Zayn finally stood with him then, and you'd only notice the blush creeping onto his face if you knew him well. He pressed his lips together and smiled tightly, waving a hand towards everyone. "My, my, my, my dear friend Malik. Look at the effect you have on everyone? It's the jawline, isn't it?" he asked the crowd. A faint _it's fucking everything_ was heard, and Zayn's eyes grew big with a laugh, clearly out of his element on stage, but he was so radiant and thriving with the attention.  

"Um, hello, everyone. I hope you are all enjoying yourselves," he started, before voicing incoherent syllables and shrugging his shoulders. "I'm actually not sure why I'm up here," he laughed before turning to Harry. "Can someone explain why I'm up here?" _Because you're hot, this is the last time we'll see your lovely face, I want to fuck you_. All the confessions had him turning obviously red, and he swallowed before uttering a stuttered laugh. "Okay, uh. I'm not sure how to follow that up, so. Harry, please, take charge."  

"Ugh," Harry groaned, turning to the crowd. "Is there anything you lot want me to do? Or confess? Confess! I'm good at confessions. Confessions are great," he mumbled through people's questions. He turned to Zayn and chuckled. "Haha, confessions." He looked down to a girl in front of him. "What was that?" he asked her. "Oh! My boyfriend, you ask?" And the majority of females yelled for him to talk about him. "Oh. . . heh, um. My boyfriend? He's um," he cleared his throat, not drunk enough and uncomfortable. "He. Is. . .spontaneous. And loud. . ." The crowd silenced for him to continue. "Loud. . ." he swallowed, before smiling. "And loud. Any more questions?"  

"Wow," Louis flatly said. "I'm flattered with compliments there."  

"He's just nervous, s'all," Niall laughed, nudging him. He turned back to Zayn who was about to step down from the table.  

"Wait, don't leave yet," Harry said, putting an arm around his shoulders and asking him, "tell us who's your favorite student.  You've never given an answer and I've heard a couple requests on that. Who's dying to be Malik's favorite student?" he asked the crowd.  

"I'm sorry, guys, but you can't all be my favorite. I only have one and I'm not entirely comfortable talking about him when he's here." A mixture of disappointed and curious noises emitted through the room before a chant of _tell us, tell us, tell us_. Zayn smiled at Harry and went to leave when Harry gripped him tighther, repeating after the crowd. It took a bit more effort than they anticipated, but Zayn wasn't able to step down anywhere without the crowd blocking his way, so he gave up after a bit. "All right, all right. I'll talk. I won't give a name, and I won't give clues that you'll be able to pinpoint who he is. But I'll tell you about him. Are you happy?"  

"Holy shit," Niall said, because Zayn doesn't talk. And yes, Niall was the most important thing in his life, but he especially didn't talk about him because he felt that was personal, that what they had between them was just that: between them.  

"I'm not good at being in the spotlight, and I'm not entirely sure if he's comfortable with this, but. Before I got up here, he told me something, and it was really special to me. So, I just want to make you smile, is that okay?" he asked, and Niall knew it was directed to him.  

"Yes, Zayn. I love you!" he cheered, but it got lost with the other cheers. Zayn heard him, though; if the sheepish smile and darker blush was anything to go by.  

"My favorite student," he sighed, "is obnoxious, lazy, quite messy, if I'm being honest. Impatient, loud, ghetto, the list can go on and on, really." Everyone laughed; Niall grumbled. "He can be conceited, but he's always putting everyone first, persistent until they believe what he's trying to convince them of theirself. He doesn't always get things the first time, but once he gets the concept, he excels at it. He excels at everything, actually." He smiled then, looked down towards the floor. "He's stubborn, really _really_  stubborn. But he fights for what he wants, whatever it may be. And he fights for what he cares about, for who he cares about. He loves with everything he has, and sometimes it leaves me speechless with how much he has to offer." The room grew silent with his confession, at how intense and personal he was speaking, but the air surrounding everyone was awestruck, or wonderous; it was something beautiful to witness. "He's everyting I never wanted, and everything I'll ever need, in the truest aspect of the sense. I'll never be able to express just how proud of him I am. But hopefully, I'll have enough time to. Even if it takes forever."  

It felt too long before they got home, touching each other all throughout the ride. But they quickly got to their room, and Niall had Zayn kneel on the bed as he opened him up slowly, pressing wet kisses all over the tan back presented to him. Zayn was eager, and the blond couldn't remember the last time he saw him like this. An abundance of lube poured down Zayn's crack, and Niall rubbed more than enough on his dick, but it still hurt, and Niall still went in slow, slower than usual, but making sure Zayn was comfortable first. Even bottoming, Zayn controlled, because he moved first, bringing his ass back and forth with breathy huffs of air and the moist sound of skin slapping filling the silence. One hand propping himself up, the other grabbed Niall's hip, the only thing that was in his reach, keeping him stable as Niall picked up the pace. It was always glorious when Zayn bottomed. Not that Niall would ever admit it, but when Zayn put all his trust in him, like right now, it was a lot to take in. The way he shamelessly arched his back and hung his head, keeping his ass back as Niall slammed in repeatedly. The way he screamed and moaned and _cursed_ , like there wasn't another word that'll match the ecstacy he was feeling. And he wouldn't let Niall touch him. "Wanna come from this," he'd moan, turning around to lock eyes with Niall. "Wanna come from you fucking me." And if that wasn't the hottest thing ever. Niall came first, but he never stopped until Zayn came too, kissing and biting the bird etched on top of his back, saying _I love you, I love you so fucking much_  repeatedly until Zayn fell asleep under him.

*  

The summer passed too fast for his liking, but he was happy. He was immensly happy; more happy than he's been in a few months.  

He wanted to visit the spiteful librarian on campus who constantly ushered couples out. He wanted to buy her flowers and a ticket to Disneyland, accompanied with a heartfelt conversation and buying her her favorite drink of coffee.  

He wanted to get a tattoo of Zayn's name on his ass and to surprise him when he's bent over the counter, Zayn pushing his pants off him. (He tried, but the artist said the meat was too pudgy, and admitted about it one night he straddled his boyfriend and just sat there admiring his tattoos. Zayn laughed in relief. "I have enough for the both of us. I did it so you don't have to. Please don't ever get one," he had said.)

There was a time Harry tried on a hat in the clothing store, and he turned in different angles, debating on whether he should buy it or not. "It looks like a python's trying to swallow my head," he commented. Niall couldn't stop laughing. Even after they left and he didn't get the hat, he couldn't stop laughing because he was drunk on happiness.  

Late in August, they planned to go camping. It was initially just supposed to be Niall and Zayn, but Niall accidentally mentioned it to Louis, and Zayn told Harry thinking it was an open trip, and Harry might've told Liam who obviously told his girlfriend who wouldn't go without Eleanor because she knew she was going to sit by herself. So it was the seven of them, all huddled around a fire that Louis attempted to create three times prior. Danielle and Eleanor were taking pictures of the lake, the way the stars looked on the water. And Liam grumbled. "I swear, I'm the one who's going to be left out," he said.

"Trust me, mate," Louis murmured, "you aren't."  

It was a nice night, only supposed to be a night. And as drinks were passed and Niall grabbed his guitar, everyone was fuzzy with happiness and blurring around the edges and it was pleasant. Niall started strumming a piece of his, a song he wrote about Zayn, though he never told him, but the words were evident. He sang about not caring what people thought while they were together, that he just wanted to be with that person, no matter what. Louis started singing with him, and when Niall looked up to make eye contact with him, Louis gave him a smile, a secret smile, because he remembered the late nights Niall worked on this song in the beginning of their relationship, when all he wanted to do was scream about how much he loved Zayn; he still wanted to, but got used to the feeling, not that it dwindled his affection. If anything, it only sparked it more, this layer of secrecy adding spice to their relationship.

So they sang and Harry danced and Liam laughed and everyone was happy, especially Zayn.  

It was late, and everyone was filing to sleep when Niall grabbed Zayn's hand inside the tent, not stopping as the man stumbled and tried to follow. "Niall, where are we going?" Niall giggled, turning to him with glassy eyes.  

"Away from here."  

"You're drunk."  

"And you don't seem drunk enough." They continued until they passed the campsite, passed the lake, passed the light of the distant flickers of the fading fire, only stopping when Niall tripped over a branch and purposely pulled Zayn on top of him. "Oopsie."  

"There was no accident in that," Zayn laughed, propping himself up on his elbows to look down on Niall precisely.  

"Well, I did fall by accident. Give me credit for that."  

"Why are we out here? And where were you?"  

"Ever had forest-sex?" It took a moment for Zayn to blink.

"Niall," he grumbled, about to push away when Niall held on to him.  

"Please? I even prepped myself and everything," he whimpered. "That's what I was doing this whole time." He softly grabbed Zayn's hand where it was placed next to his head and guided it down, only then did Zayn realize why he was only wearing a long shirt that reached past his thighs; he wore nothing under. "Feel that?" he whispered, pressing the tan fingers into the wetness of his hole. "I did that, for you. And I'm ready, so. Hurry up." He nudged his foot into Zayn's hips.  

"You're stealing my heart here, with your romantic ways, you know, Ni?" Niall only bit his lip in laughter, stroking himself to get harder. Zayn could've only watched until the blond nudged him again to get on with it, that he didn't want them to come looking soon, that he was horny. "God, you're desperate."

"For you, always." But then his voice hitched in his throat, because Niall was drunk and the darkness obscured Zayn pulling his pants down enough to take his dick out. And only when he felt something glide into him with no warning was he able to realize just how desperate he was. "Want you," he moaned, flailing his hand in the air until Zayn grabbed it, kissing his open palm.  

"You have me."  

"Always, fucking _always_ ," he demanded, or whined because Zayn snapped forward until he disappeared inside of him. And he didn't stop, not when sharp leaves bit at his forearms hoisting himself up; he just ignored it. Not when Niall screamed too loudly for _more_ , and _harder_ , and  _faster, don't fucking stop_ ; he just covered his mouth with a palm, even when Niall bit it repeatedly when there was nothing else the blond was able to do. Not when he already came and Niall still hadn't; he just continued, always continued, not stopping until Niall was just as disheveled as he was.  

Zayn carried him back, even through Niall's complaint of being treated like a baby. Everyone was asleep, or hopefully they were, when they got back, because the drunk blond wouldn't stop laughing. And when they got inside their tent and Zayn laid Niall down carefully, the blond told him to stay just like that. So as he stayed frozen, waiting for another order, Niall grabbed his phone amongst the covers of blankets and was able to take an askew photo of Zayn, the way he was crouched down and hovering over him. His hair was the epitome of just-fucked, and his eyes were a watery gold and squinting into the flash. Niall uploaded it on Instagram, without thought, just happiness. ' _Who knew camping would be so /fucking/ worth it #campsex #tryit #itshealthy_ ' read the caption. And not even a minute later, Harry texted him _go tf to sleep, please_. And he did, because he was happy.

_Niall_ was happy.  

Niall was _happy_.  

Niall _was_  happy.

_Was._


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For the sake of your sanity and morality, I pray you'll never have to upload a chapter via mobile device. And I love you xx

Niall didn't remember ever leaving the campsite, realizing he slept the whole ride back. Because the last thing he remembered was going to bed with Zayn shuffling the blankets between them, and now he was waking up in bed, the time on his phone reading half past two in the afternoon. He rolled over, noting the ache in his rear, and knowing it wasn't only from sex because the pinecone needles and dried leaves pinched the skin throughout the whole activity. Well, he didn't regret a thing, never would regret a thing when it came to Zayn.

Zayn. When he turned the other way, he found the man sleeping on his stomach facing him, eyelashes darker than usual and lips puckered out. His hair was a mess, strewn all over the pillow which made Niall guess they were home for quite some time. He was drowsy, but not tired, so he decided to get up, all through the ache of his lowerbody.

Sitting in the tub, he ran his hands down the muscles in his legs, feeling how sore they were, and his waist hurt, and his hips. It was blissful for him. And he smiled with his lips aligned with the surface of the water. When he got out, Zayn was still sleeping. So he roamed the house and put the dirty clothes in the hamper and watched TV on the sofa, only realizing he fell asleep when Zayn shook him lightly. He hummed in question, blinking awake slowly.

"Hey. Hey, baby," Zayn said. "The school called last minute for some meeting. I'll be back later."

"Mmm, okay. Can you buy that chocolate cake thing from the bakery, please? The one with the fudge inside?" he whispered, flopping his head to the side in semislumber. Zayn chuckled, agreeing with a kiss to Niall's temple. "Love you," he added.

"Love you, too. You better be up when I get back."

Zayn left around four that afternoon, and Niall busied himself with scrolling through channels until something sparked his attention for five minutes before flipping through them again. It was too quiet for his liking, and he was thankful when Zayn got back, almost four hours later. "Babe," Niall greeted, pecking him on the lips before making his way towards the kitchen. "I texted you a few times and even called to see what you wanted to eat, but you never answered. You hungry?" He checked the fridge for maybe the sixth time before turning around to find Zayn in the same position, shoes and jacket still on, hand outstretched about to place his phone on the counter. "Hey, you okay?" Zayn didn't answer, only pursed his lips in deep thought before finally taking his jacket off, hanging it up slowly as he made his way towards the island in the kitchen, keeping his eyes fixed south. Niall asked him again, moving to stand opposite of him. "Z? What happened?"

"How was your day?" Zayn inquired, looking up to smile at Niall. But Niall knew him, knew it was forced, tight around the edges. He swallowed.

"Z, can you tell me what's wrong?" Zayn didn't, just shrugged his shoulders and said it wasn't a big deal, that he was starving so he moved around Niall to start cooking dinner.

They were seated at the table, the clinks of silver tapping each other and the occasional verbal thought here and there making the only appearance. Niall didn't take his eyes off Zayn; Zayn didn't take his eyes off his plate of food. The fork was between his pale fingers and Niall placed it down carefully, trying not to draw anymore tension in the room. "Zayn," he whispered. He didn't bother saying anything else, though; his boyfriend got the message, if the way he swallowed a bit roughly was anything to go by.

"So, they know we're together," he answered, now looking up towards Niall. It made sense now. The blond blinked, unsure how to respond.

Oh.

Oh, damn.

Holy-- holy _shit_.

"Um." _Fuck_. "Uh." He rubbed his arm, not liking the glare in Zayn's eyes. "How. How did they find out?" Zayn stood up to grab a folder from his inside jacket pocket, walking towards the table and placing it opened to view a printed copy of a picture. A picture that looked too familiar as Zayn turned it to face him, the blatant uploaded picture. "That was last night," he said, because there was nothing else to say. Not when Zayn was looking at it also, as if trying to gauge some type of comfort with a hand rubbing his chin.

"Yeah. Yeah, I know," he responded, biting his lip in thought. "Supposedly, a witness informed them before about us? Like, a year ago or something, right? But there wasn't enough evidence to prove anything. And the same person graduated with you. And, I don't know, saw how we were communicating, and. They were at that party, too. And they saw this picture," he trailed. Niall saw the uncertainty in the hazel of his eyes, how they tried to decipher every line and angle of the picture for a semblance of control. But there wasn't any.

"Zayn. . ." he whispered. "Zayn, I'm so sorry. I didn't-- I don't know, I didn't think this through. I just," he swallowed. "Hey. Hey, I'm done with classes, so. So, it'll be fine, yeah? Like. I thought we were able to, you know. . . not hide anymore." He rubbed the top of his arm assuringly when Zayn snapped his head up to look at him.

"No. No, of course, baby. That's not what I meant. I-- Come here," he sighed, gesturing for Niall to come over because the boy looked like he was trying to compose himself for the moment, slightly flaking along the edges. Niall walked over slowly, sitting in Zayn's open lap and burying his face in his neck while the man rubbed his back. "I didn't mean it like that. Of course we don't have to hide. It was never mandatory to hide; it was just safer for this, for us, you know?" Niall nodded against the skin. "Look. I told them that, how you were done with school and that when we started dating you were of age." He pressed his nose into Niall's hair, suppressing a groan because the boy dyed it yet again a few days prior. He smiled soon. "They tried to get me to break us up. Funny, innit? Threatened my job and all."

Niall pulled away slowly to look at him. "You're lying."

Zayn shrugged. "Told them I don't care what they did. Turns out they can't fire me, anyway. I'm good at what I do and it's too late to find a substitute," he half-smiled. A silence passed until the upturned lip dropped, and he turned back to the folder to pull out another piece of paper. "Again, I told them how you don't go there anymore. But the records say you applied for a photography course?" He gave the paper to Niall, and it dawned on the blond. . . "I called Harry myself to confirm it," Zayn continued as Niall leaned away to read the paper carefully. He remembered that drunk night in early March, or April, it was months ago; Harry was complaining about something, about not having enough students interested to start a class, and Niall offered, thinking _why the hell not,_ thinking _pictures are cool_ , thinking _he'll have more volunteers by then anyway_. "Were you ever going to tell me?"

"I forgot," he answered truthfully, pushing frizzy hair off his forehead. "I swear, I just spaced. I don't even remember applying, or," he gulped, looking to Zayn. "What do we do?" he asked, gnawing on his bottom lip. "Zayn, what do _I_ do?"

"Hey. We're in this, both of us, okay? Don't think you're alone. We'll just. . ." and Niall couldn't remember for his dear life the last time Zayn couldn't answer, didn't know how to. "There's nothing we could do, really. You start Monday, you know? The papers never mailed because it's such a fresh course that it's not in the system, but Harry emailed students." Right, of course it'd be via email when that was the only social network Niall didn't use. "Babe, it's fine. Look at me," Zayn ordered, not continuing until Niall looked to him finally. "We kept quiet for long enough. I wouldn't have it any other way if I could," he comforted, but it was the truth.

"Do you mean that?" Niall pouted, knowing he was responsible for the fact Zayn was going to be eyed when he returned back to teaching, the one thing Niall questioned that the man loved more than him. He was responsible if students didn't go to his class, didn't listen to him, disrespected him. He was responsible if his colleagues decided it'd be best to avoid him since he settled for subpar, someone like Niall. And Niall knew that was reasonable. He was responsible if Zayn got shit from students and colleagues combined, and people called him names and if he was treated badly or if people avoided him. He was responsible if this all fucked up for Zayn.

"I promise, Ni. Don't worry. I bet we're making it a bigger deal than it is." Niall couldn't fix the worried look on his face even if he was aware of it. He just bit his lip raw without thought and curved his eyebrows down the middle, staring at Zayn and waiting for him to. . .do something, because an unpleasant weight was settling in his stomach and taking residence there, waiting for what was going to happen.

Zayn saw this look, saw and read everything that passed his boyfriend's face. So with a slam of the paper on the table, he grabbed Niall's face to kiss him, to kiss the uneasiness away and replace it with a smile, the smile he knew vividly, the smile that he first flashed him in class years back. Niall reacted almost instantly, it was impossible not to dwell in the feel of Zayn's lips, the _feel_ of it, in its shape and taste and lingering bite. And he knew the man wasn't kissing him to spark a flame, to lead it elsewhere. Zayn kissed him lazily, more lips than tongue, but all emotion in the midst of it. It was thick and rich, like trying to spread honey all across the bottom of a mug, making sure to not to miss a spot. He turned his head precisely when Niall tilted his, he bit and breathed and kept his eyes closed, just wanting Niall to feel loose with it, to sag against him and let Zayn do what he wanted. But it never came.

And when Zayn pulled back, the smile he wished for never came, either. Just a replica of it, a pitiful laborous replica.

 

 

It was only a few weeks into the school year. Just a few weeks.

"That's him."

"Did you hear?"

"It was all over--"

"--surprised he's still here."

"Do you think--"

"I don't fucking care what you think!" Niall screamed at the duo of girls behind him that were whispering into each other's ears. Niall had it. He was fucking drowning in the anger everywhere he went on campus. "Talk about your outfits! Or fucking makeup! Or the last guy you slept with! But do you really have to keep _gossiping_ about me? Seriously?" he continued when the girls looked at him in shock. It only made him more angry; how they decided to shut up now. So he turned around to face them fully, unaware of the surrounding people listening intently. "You're a fucking selfish _bitch_! Both of you! All of you!" he screamed when he _finally_ realized they were listening. "Don't you have something better to do than--"

"Horan," boomed the principal of the school, or one of those fucking important people, Niall didn't care. And fucking great, that's just what Niall needed right now, more attention. "My office. Now."

He sat with a stubborn tap in his foot, facing Mr. Hinton as the older man folded his hands across the desk. "Mr. Horan, I'm here to--"

"I didn't do anything wrong," he flatly said, folding his arms and clenching his jaw repeatedly. "I'm not a child, either. So why am I here?"

"That's what we're here to discuss. Not only did you just verbally assault a group of your peers, and a few professors were there, but--"

"That's their fault. Why are they so invested in my relationship, then?" Mr. Hinton only sighed through his nose, motioning to someone behind Niall in an unspoken conversation. The door opened as someone entered.

"The reason why you're inititally here is because a few students caught you with. . . A professor, in a compromised situation, a state inappropriate for school grounds. Mr. Malik, have a seat, please," he gestured to Zayn who sat next to Niall, sending a perplexed look to his boyfriend. Niall only fumed, facing ahead. "And I presume with what I just witnessed we can also discuss Mr. Horan's behavior."

"Behavior?" Zayn questioned. "What behavior?" Hinton turned to him with a tight smile, all faux understanding.

"I've seen him screaming at a few students about, um. . . in his words, people invested in his relationship with his partner, and--"

"Oh, sod off," Niall remarked, rolling his eyes. "You know damn well I'm with _Mr. Malik_ and don't talk like I'm not here."

"Niall," Zayn warned sharply. Hinton looked between the two of them for a moment, clear disapproval on their relationship.

"Malik, All I ask is that you keep him under control. This is the first time I've witnessed such behavior but the fourth time it's been brought to my attention. And as for the physical contact--"

"Excuse me, sir," Zayn respectfully interrupted, always so respectfully, and it aggravated Niall even more. "But Mr. Horan and I have only kissed in front of students. A simple peck here and there only. Never more than that. If that's what you're referring to, I'd like to point out there's no rule in the handbook that states it's prohibited."

"Yes, I've looked it over myself. But it's not as acceptable as seeing a staff member kiss a student."

"We're in a commited relationship."

"You're a distraction. It's a distraction and I will not let it taint the atmosphere of my school. So, get that under control as well."

"Sir, if I may--"

"You're dismissed," he smiled. Zayn nodded once, getting up from his seat while looking to Niall to do the same, but the blond wouldn't have any of that.

"Excuse me?" he spat to Mr. Hinton who perked up in question. "I don't know who the hell you are--"

"Niall," Zayn tried to grasp his attention.

"--but don't you _dare_ talk to Zayn like that. He's worth way more than you'll--"

" _Niall_ ," Zayn ordered. Only then did Niall close his mouth, but he swallowed angrily as he stared back at Zayn. "Let's go," Zayn continued, not waiting for Niall to follow him out the door.

"You can't speak to the Head Advisor like that," Zayn sighed. They sat in their dining room, last night's dinner heated in front of them.

"He can't talk to you like that, either," Niall said harshly, his foot tapping against the floor repeatedly again.

"He's my boss."

"He's a dickhead."

"Niall, I'm serious."

"So am I! Is it so bad that we're together?! For fuck's sake, it's like we killed someone!" Zayn sighed in exhaustion, resting his forehead against his palm. It only made Niall angrier, everything made him angrier. This was going on for too long and he was so tired of holding his tongue. He was tired of going into class and getting the same looks from the same people. He was tired of watching every move he made because if he wasn't supposedly making out with Zayn in his classroom, he was fucking a girl or a guy in the stalls, and word went straight to Zayn. And he was tired, so _fucking_ tired. But most of all, he was tired with the way Zayn always held his tongue. He took every insult with a nod of his head and every scream with a steady look. He was always so collective and calm. He never stuck up for himself; not that he was afraid, but because he didn't want to escalate anything. And Niall couldn't do that, he couldn't and that made him more tired.

"Niall, we knew this was going to be difficult."

"Not like this, Zayn. Not like _this_."

"I know, baby, I know. Let's just--" and here he was, yet again holding his tongue, not sticking up for himself, not trying to escalate anything. Niall wanted to cry. "--take it day by day, okay? It's only a couple of months, then we're off somewhere else, I promise." He looked up at Niall, trying to find reason. Niall only saw disappointment in his eyes. Niall wanted to cry.

"I'm not hungry anymore," he said, getting up from the table, thinking of taking a shower; anything to wash the grime he was wearing every single day. It was happening all over again. The disappointed looks, the tension in school _and_ home, the fact it was Niall's fault. And that made the blond angry, like everything else. But most of all, he was more disappointed in _himself_ , more than _anything_. It was happening all over again, and it was his fault.

 

 

They continued.

It didn't stop.

Zayn's constant, _constant_  self-preservation.

In the beginning, it was vague, durable. But now? Almost the end of December? It was unbelievable. The fucking _extent_ to how many times Zayn stayed quiet.

It was physical, the urge to scream and thrash and _hurt_ the person when they talked to him like that. Niall felt the way he did right before a game, where he'd jump from foot to foot, on his toes and ready to pounce at any moment. That's how he felt; but it was more sickening and lethal, the fact his state of mind was on _hurting_ instead of winning or doing better, or something beneficial on the field. He just wanted to hurt them.

And Zayn noticed, too. When Niall would catch him in a discussion in his classroom, only to find out the person was there to scold Zayn, though he received enough of that. _Enough_ of that already! _Fuck!_ And he was ready to interfere, to _pounce_ , but Zayn would give him a look, barely distinguishable but Niall knew what he was asking, demanding, really. _Don't you dare. This is my fight_. Though it was barely a fight when Zayn only held his tongue.

The blond knew; he knew that Zayn was fuming himself. Under the tan and deadpan look, he was red and boiling, the harsh words scratching at his throat for release. But that's just what they wanted, the dumb fuckers! Any little thing to use against him, to report him, to get him the hell out of there.

Because Zayn fell in love with a student.

And it was all the student's fault; no one could convince Niall otherwise.

 

 

"Are we going through this again?"

Niall blinked up from his trance, not really sure what they were talking about. "Wha'?"

"Niall, for God's sake," Louis emphasized, pinching the skin between his eyes. "It's _not_ your fault. Stop feeling so fucking _sorry_ for yourself. This pity act is annoying."

"Wait. What pity act?"

"Don't act stupid," he spat. And then grimaced, becoming more annoyed. "Do you have any idea how sweet you got it? I'm seriously asking." But he didn't give Niall time to answer. "You're still together, you're still in love and are working at this relationship. And just because a few fuckers say stupid shit you're going to get this pathetic?"

"What are you going on about?" Niall remarked, curling his lip in annoyance. Things were getting shitty; not Louis, too. But as they fumed at each other, basking in the sudden tension between them, Niall realized Louis' been like this for a while. And it was getting annoying, really fucking annoying. "Know what," he said, standing up and wiping his mouth with a napkin. "Enjoy your dinner. I'll escort myself out. Say hi to Harry when he gets home."

"Right."

"What the fuck is your _problem_? Dammit, Louis. I'm not depressed, I'm not pathetic. Yes, I'm a little overwhelmed. And the comments irk me. They fucking irk, to the point I want to leave. I want to go home. _Home_. To Ireland--"

"So go home! No one's stopping you!"

"You're shit. You're real shit." He grabbed his jacket and pointed at Louis the whole time leaving. "I don't expect you to know how to comfort me, but I expect you to at least try when I need you. Thanks a lot. _Best_ pal."

"Like you know the meaning of the term," he whispered.

Niall left, closed the door softly because at the end of the day, that was Harry and Louis' house. At the end of the day, he still respected Louis. Still loved _him_. Not this new him.

 

 

It was getting scary, the feeling of being under the unknown, not knowing what's going to happen next.

'Expect the Unexpected.' Yeah, it wasn't so hard to anymore.

 

 

Zayn wasn't angry with him. He wasn't. Not at all. He was just a little bit bothered with the way Niall handled these situations, always ready to pounce, to attack, whether verbally or physically; he didn't care, but Zayn did. He knew it was all temporary. This wasn't going to last forever. Niall would be done with the class soon and Zayn will take a few years off for the plans he had in mind for a while.

But Niall didn't know this, only knew the tiredness in Zayn's eyes when they got home and Zayn would fall asleep in the middle of a movie, only knew the void in his brow when someone was screaming at him through the phone, presumably a colleague, only knew the annoyance in his stern mouth when he witnessed a student lashing blatant implications about the tan man in said person's sight.

Niall didn't know Zayn wasn't angry with him, but every bone in his body convinced him that he was.

 

 

It was Zayn's birthday soon. Niall wanted it to be special. He _needed_ it to be special, needed it to have some small insight on how Niall still loved him, _loved_ him _so_ much.

"I'm not doing that shit," Niall said, walking next to Liam. "I'm not. Give me another idea but _not_ this."

They were shopping for a dinner Liam had planned for Danielle since she got the part she wanted as a dancer in a musical. Louis and Niall still weren't talking (they weren't being immature, it was just an unspoken knowledge that they needed space from each other) so Niall went to Liam's aid in hopes his cousin can give some advice on what to do for Zayn's birthday.

"Niall," he sighed, debating over which bag of croutons to buy. "You asked for ideas so I'm giving you some. What about a blowjob that'll blow his mind? Haha, get it?"

"But I gave him a grand one for his last birthday," he answered, ignoring the pitiful attempt at a joke. "What about that new DC superhero movie that came out? You know, with the patriotic dude in red tights? Or was it blue?"

"Marvel. For God's sake, it's _Marvel_ , Niall. And Zayn and I saw it last month."

"Right. Right, right, right. Um. . . Hmm. . . Fuck, I don't know what to do. What can make him not angry at me anymore?"

"He's not angry with you," he laughed, shaking his head. "Believe me, he's not. The school situation is pretty shitty, and it bothers him. But it's nothing with you."

"Anyway, what should I do?" he asked, grabbing a random bag from Liam's hand and putting it in the cart, ending Liam's concentration on the toasted bread bites. Liam just rolled his eyes, bringing them to rest on Niall as the boy stared back blankly. "You're here to help me, remember?"

"No. I'm here for Danielle, actually."

"Whipped."

"Says the boy desperately begging for ideas for their boyfriend's birthday." He smirked, but it fell when he noted the look on Niall's face, how it was evident that he was out of his depth here, scraping the last remnants in his mind to come up with something for Zayn. "Hey," he voiced softly, grabbing the blond's shoulder. "Don't worry too much, yeah? Either it'll get better or it won't. But one thing's certain, you and Zayn will be fine." Niall shrugged lightly, chewing on his lip in thought. "But I'm telling you, it's going to work. It did with me and Dani. Do what I say and he'll go nuts. "

"Doubt it. And I'm not doing that."

"Wanna bet?" Liam asked challengely, responding to both statements.

 

 

It was Zayn's birthday, and Niall woke him up with breakfast in bed, all of Zayn's favorites. "Happy birthday," he whispered into Zayn's hair, the man resting his head on Niall's chest as he drank the cup of coffee. Zayn kissed his chest in reply, his lips lingering a second longer.

"Do we really have to go to class today?" Niall asked for the third time since they got in the car. They were parked in front of the university, a few minutes earlier so they could disperse before anyone caught them. Zayn rubbed the back of Niall's hand, bringing it to his lips to skim them over the knuckles.

"No, not really. But if we both miss, they'll suspect, put the pieces together, and. You know the rest." The blond swallowed, continued to stare at Zayn. God, he was beautiful, always beautiful. His skin was poreless, no blemish atop the tan skin, and his eyes were ever bright, bordering on gold on most days. His hair laid loose, black spikes pointing down and framing the back of his neck and forehead. Niall was so in love with him, and so scared if the day ever came that Zayn became fed up with him, with everything going on.

Zayn felt his tension, the uneasiness pouring out the blond's body a space away. And when he looked at Niall, he knew what the blue in his eyes was saying for the millionth time.

 _I'm so, so, sorry_.

A tan finger pressed into the skin beneath Niall's bottom lip, making it jut out, and Zayn leaned down to suck it into his mouth, wasting no time with having Niall gasp and tremble with the sensation soon. "I love you. Don't worry, please."

"It's your birthday. You shouldn't have to go through this," he huffed, gripping the back of Zayn's head with one hand and clinging onto his leather jacket with the other.

"It's fine. Really, it's fine. And my birthday couldn't get better. I promise."

He did mean it, at the moment. But he could've survived without the constant snarky comments thrown his way down every hallway, while distributing papers in his class, during his trip to the lounge for a mug of tea. He could've lived without it, really. And it was getting annoying.

Niall realized how aggravated he was on their ride back, the way he barely said a word and the muscles in his jaw continued to jump.

"Do you want anything?" he timidly asked Zayn when they arrived home.

"No," he sighed. "Gonna take a breather, is that fine?" He didn't wait for Niall's answer, just changed into loose sweats and a tanktop for a run.

It was later that night, while Zayn showered, that Niall went through with Liam's plan. He bailed countless times in his head, thinking it wasn't going to work, that it was embarrassing, anyway. But he was out of ideas, and he couldn't end the night like this. It was Zayn's birthday, fuck everyone else and their shitty ways. He could _not_ have Zayn go to bed unhappy on his birthday. He shouldn't have to any night, but tonight even more so.

"You're in bed already?" Zayn asked, coming out of the bathroom with a towel around his waist. Niall blushed under the covers, hoping it'll go unnoticed. "I hope you're not tired," Zayn smirked expectantly. Some of the anger chipped off his features, but it was still there, under the numerous layers of his tranquility.

"No. Not tired. Just," he sighed, closing his eyes and turning to the side. "Mmm. You showered without me," he whined, grasping any sort of way to change the topic.

"Yeah. Sorry. Didn't know you wanted to join," he answered truthfully.

"I could've rewarded you, or something. Your birthday and all."

"My birthday isn't over," he responded lowly. Niall chuckled, burying his head in the pillow and counting his breaths to calm himself.

"Well, get over here then." By the time Niall came back into focus, Zayn was nipping at his pale bottom lip.

"You all right?" he voiced, noticing Niall's lack of response.

"Yeah. Yeah, m'fine," Niall mumbled, pulling Zayn in for a kiss. But Zayn trailed his hand under the covers, tracing Niall's ribcage and ghosting his fingertips down his body, suddenly stopping at the material that covered Niall's lowerhalf.

"Wha--"

"Oh my God," Niall whined suddenly, burning with fear that this was a shitty idea. "Oh my God, it was Liam's idea, I swear to God, I just didn't know what to do, if you don't like it--"

"Oh my God," Zayn deadpanned, noting the thin line of cloth between Niall's arse cheeks. "Oh my _Go_ _d_ , are you wearing--"

"Fucking Christ," Niall whispered, burying his face into the pillow. "Should've just cut my dick off." Zayn retreated his hand back, pushing the blanket away to see Niall's body and _G_ _od_ , his eyes couldn't open wider. Niall patted the bed, looking for the blanket but Zayn grabbed his hand and tugged him off the bed. "Baby, where are we going? Please, don't embarass me."

"Embarrass you?" Zayn turned around quickly, making Niall almost run into him; his hand was still entwined with Zayn's. "Is that what you think I'm doing?" Niall fumbled for words, opening his mouth than quickly shutting it. " _Goodness_ , have you seen yourself in this?" he continued, eyeing the purple thong on his boyfriend.

"No, I didn't. And preferably, I don't want to, so," he shrugged uncomfortably, scratching the inside of his elbow for lack of anything else to do. Zayn walked over to him slowly, making the hitch in his breath go unnoticed because Niall was unbelievable, so perfect and unbelievable and _fuck_ , Zayn's pictured him clad in girl briefs but his imagination never justified the boy in front of him. "Zayn?" he squeaked, when the man hovered barely a few inches from his face. But Zayn didn't know what to do, didn't know what to taste first. His lips gaped open an inch away from Niall's, and he tilted his head side to side, trying to find the right angle, wanting to taste as much as he can the first time. He unconsciously bit his lip, snaked a hand down to grab Niall's arse experimentally, fuck. The noise the blond made was worth it, everything was worth it.

"Why didn't you do this sooner?" he gasped, pulling on Niall's bottom lip. But he didn't give him a moment to answer.

"What are we doing?" he asked when Zayn pulled him into the walk-in clothes room, flicking on the lights in the process. They headed towards the section Zayn held the three floor-to-ceiling mirrors, and Niall remembered the first time he saw it, how he made fun of Zayn and laughed at his vanity; it wasn't funny anymore. "Zayn. Zayn, no. I'm not-- Stop, _please_." He tugged against Zayn's grip, getting nowhere with his effort when Zayn suddenly pinned him in the with his hold on the top of his arms. The sheet Niall was able to grasp from the bed failed to cover him since it was transparent, and Zayn instantly stood behind him and bracketed his way of escape.

"Look at yourself."

"No." He reached down to grab the end of the thin blanket, using its red material to obscure his body, any part he was able to.

"Niall," he whispered, bringing his lips to connect with the blond's throat. "Baby, please. It's my birthday. Jesus, you're gorgeous. Please, look at yourself." It took a lot of coaxing, but he reluctantly willed his eyes to look in the mirror.

He found nothing spectacular with his reflection; he never did, actually. If anything, he felt stupid. So fucking stupid with the skimpy lingerie that fit too tightly for liking. It was a bruising violet shade, Zayn's favorite color, with satin ribbons on its frame. A pair Danielle picked for him, and let's not get to that humiliating discussion.

But Zayn. Zayn saw everything, _always_ did. He saw what he fell in love with, felt like he was falling in love all over again. He perceived broad pale shoulders under tan fingers, the way his hands groped at the paintless skin. Niall was pale, resembling an untouched canvas, just _waiting_ for Zayn to make use of. And he had, every possible time, but this was so new. Niall was red under his skin, bordering on purple with the immensity of embarrassment. Flat defined abdomen trailing into thin muscled hips, a simple mauve material covering his dick, barely. He saw everything; Niall didn't.

"Oh my  _Go_ _d_ ," Zayn breathed. "Fuck, do you know what you're _doing_ to me?"

"Um. Happy birthday?"

He took Niall there, under the bright lights with the mirrors a few feet away. The lace stayed on, he didn't dare take them off him. And Niall barely held on; struggling for breath with each slam into his body was enough effort. He _couldn't_ hold on if he wanted to; his hands were tied to the nearby grounded lamp. Zayn was gripping his waist tightly, pulling Niall's fucked hips more to him with each thrust. He sensed his back was getting rugburned since he was being pushed back and forth too quickly to chart, and his ass would've gotten burned too if they weren't elevated, trying to get more of Zayn inside him.

He wanted to come, but Zayn wouldn't touch him, and the panties were digging into the flesh of his dick that fought against its restraint. "Zayn," he moaned, thrusts making the name come out in a few syllables. " _Fuck_! Fuck, fuck, fuck, I need-- _please_ ," he continued. His chin rested against his collarbone in gasps, watching Zayn's stomach tighten with release, and he was moments away from coming at the sudden warmth pooling in him. Zayn pulled out of him in one swift movement, making Niall hiss and whine, close to tears because he hadn't come yet. But Zayn's tongue replaced his dick and lapped at the substance, harshly licking the abused muscle and spreading him more open. His head fell back against the floor, eyes clenched shut and noises scratching its way out of his throat for lack of anything else to do. "Right there," he moaned, rolling his hips into Zayn's face. "Fuck. Fuck. _Yes_ ," he gasped, bringing his head up to watch Zayn. But it was like Zayn was possessed, unable to do anything _but_ eat him out, intent on having him come this way. And he did soon, releasing a weak cry and turning the purple material darker with the liquid.

Zayn didn't stop, not when Niall protested, not when he pulled against the restraints and sobbed with it, not until he came a second time, completely soaking the underwear, having the white substance drip through the spaces. Niall was heaving with sobs, unusually emotional as Zayn untied his hands. Maybe it was the overstimulation, or everything going on. But Zayn didn't comment, just kissed his face and mouth until he fell asleep with it, hiccuping with the after effects.

 

 

They don't talk about that night, even if it's in the air they breathe daily. It's more tangible than not, the unbalanced mood that surrounds them. Zayn wants to apologize, but doesn't know what for. It was more personal and intimate than he's willing to admit, the helpless cries that Niall emitted into his chest. He doesn't know what to do, what to say, or how to go about this. If it isn't easy for him, he learns a way to excel at it, whatever problem it may be. But this is something way different; it's almost unknown, and Zayn's never experienced this tightness before.

Niall wants to apologize, too, and he knows what for. But Zayn's heard the same apology over and over again, and will only be exasperated. So he keeps his mouth shut, hopes Zayn doesn't know how much this daily routine is affecting him, and waits as patiently as he can for the day this all ends.

Unfortunately, their problems will have to be on hold.

 

 

Niall's showering alone, letting the water run over his head until the heat wastes and takes his time dressing himself up. He puts on one of the sweaters Zayn gave him on his foreign trips, hopes Zayn won't read much into it. Niall likes the smell on it, it's more Zayn than it is him. And he'll take whatever he can get at the moment.

It's while he's walking down the steps towards the kitchen that he realizes something's wrong. He knows that distressed cry anywhere; it brings back memories when he held him in his arms as he cried over the latest guy that dumped him, back when they shared a shitty flat.

It's Louis, tapping his feet harshly and shaking his head slowly, hands covering his face as Zayn rubs his back next to him on the sofa.

"He's such a piece of shit," Louis whimpers. "He's such a _fucking_ piece of shit."

Only then does Niall realize there's not a ring on his finger.

 

 

"What the fuck was that?" Niall asked hushly when Zayn closed the laundry room behind him. He waited in there until Zayn grabbed a blanket upstairs, placing it over Louis' form that fell asleep on the sofa a few feet outside the room. All throughout his breakdown, he cried a few clipped phrases and harsh words, but not enough to form a coherent sentence; it wasn't concrete enough to decipher what Harry did.

"I don't know. Niall, I really don't know. I tried calling Harry and he's not picking up. I'm gonna go see what's going on, make sure he's all right." Niall nodded, staring at the floor between them. Zayn still didn't move, and when the blond looked up, his found his man looking back at him, mouth set in a forlorn frown and brows curving downward at the ends. "Are. Are we going to be all right?" He looked so small, the way his hands laid timidly by his side, and he didn't know what to do with his stance, shifting from one leg and breathing in too softly. Niall could've laughed, sympathetically laugh and hug Zayn tightly, not let go until Zayn laughed along with him.

"Of course, Z. Of course," he whispered, trying to smile, hoping Zayn would believe him.

He smiled back, too. A smile that matched Niall's.

 

It was moving into the distant bright hours of the morning, and Niall was still awake, not sure how to handle Louis when he woke up. Zayn texted him a few hours ago, saying he was staying at Harry's, that to be safe and he loved him. Niall responded with the same endearment.

Was this how breakups went? He wondered. It was obvious Louis was done with him, done with the relationship and all of Harry's shitty ways. _Such a fucking piece of **shit**_ , Louis had repeated thoroughly the night before. And it was scary, the similarites this had with the nights Niall would hold him, back when they hadn't a clue of Zayn and Harry. It was all so familiar, yet he didn't know what to do. He didn't know how to handle this Louis, where they weren't on good terms for once and any little thing could result in the Doncaster man screaming with profanities.

So he waited it out, swept the upstairs hall, washed the dishes, and was in the middle of making breakfast when he heard the rustle of blankets move on the couch. He didn't turn around, knew Louis would become angry if Niall pried too much attention on him. Instead, he hummed to himself, frying chips for breakfasts instead of the usual hash browns because he knew his best friend needed it, some kind of diversity for his day, no matter how small. He poured Coca Cola instead of coffee, not that they drank that, anyway, and made fryups the exact way he remembered Louis loved it.

The sink of the upstairs bathroom was running, and deciding to not prolong the inevitable, he made his way upstairs, making sure to make enough noise. The water still ran, even though it was obvious Niall was there, from his loud stumps and sharp clearing of throats, but Louis still brushed his teeth, using his finger and washing the rest of the grime with mouthwash. "Hey," Niall greeted, not bothering to fake a pleasant tone. There was nothing pleasant at the moment.

"Hey, Ni. Um. I'm sorry, you know. For showing up late." He looked down at the sink, turning off the water and rubbing the top of his arm. "And, for everything else," he breathed out. "Fuck, I have no right to be here," he whimpered, and Niall knew he was close to tears again. "Believe me, I know, and--"

"Don't talk that way. You're still my best friend. It's gonna take more than a few shitty compliments to. . ." he trailed, realizing something; realizing everything. The way Louis' been for months, since graduation, before graduation. How utterly patronizing he's been. "Louis, how long has this thing with you and Harry been going on?"

Louis made a noise, something between a cry and a laugh, cringing into himself at the name. A few sniffs released from him, and he rubbed his nose of the congestion, wouldn't look in the mirror; and Niall sensed this, how pathetic Louis felt. But for what? he wanted to know. And he was answered when he went to hug his best friend, who immediately raised a hand to stop him.

"I wouldn't come any closer if I were you," Louis laughed, but it came out more like a croak. "I reek of infidelity."

The sink dripped water.

The floor creaked under their feet.

Niall's heart stopped; he truly believed it did.

"Louis. Louis, no."

And Louis just cried, dropped his head against his chest and sobbed, not bothering to cover his face because his hands were too busy holding himself up against the sink, making sure he didn't fall from the headache taking over.

And Niall just held him, pressed his chest to the quivering boy's back, unsure what else to do but keep Louis' hair out of his eyes and hug him tightly.

And he rememebered when Louis told him about the engagement, how he tried so hard not to cry and Niall made fun and said _well, you're not gonna cry yet_ , because Louis was saving the tears for the special day, for _a_ day.

Today was that day.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> idk what to say ._. I am just so sorry. I accept any torment and/or death threats sent my way. I wanna kill myself, too. but I do hope you like this chapter. as always, I love you xx

"I don't know!" Harry said for the third time, voice scratchy and worn-thin. His eyes were sucked in, resembling a corpse with a complexion paler than normal, and sweat shined on his forehead, threatening to drip down his temple. He looked beat, miserable.  

Niall could relate.  

The blond sighed, resting his elbows on the table him and Louis argued a couple weeks ago, when he stormed off without knowing what his best friend was going through; going through for so long. It made him feel pathetic, and _embarrassed_ , how he didn't know what was going on. But he was going to find out now, _needed_  to find out now. Because Zayn reasoned that Niall should hear it directly from Harry first and Louis stormed off before the curly-haired man had a chance to explain on that unfortunate day. He made sure to leave a mark, though. If the receding bruising lump on Harry's chin was anything to go by.  

"Harry," he repeated, trying not to feel sympathy for him, but it was difficult when it was evident how _broken_ he looked at the moment, how utterly and shamelessly disorganised and out of place he appeared; it was almost as pathetic as Niall's lack of awarewness. "Talk to me. What the hell happened?"  

"You wouldn't believe me, anyway," he whispered, staring at the table between them.  

"Well, I wouldn't know unless you tell me." He had been sitting on the chair close to an hour, and he had to get home before Louis and Zayn came back from the gym, before Louis knew he was there. Harry reluctantly succumbed, slumped his shoulders and his chin fell against his chest, making oily curls cover his face.

"I don't know how it happened," he started. "I swear to fuck, I really don't. I didn't plan to get drunk, just wanted to feel something. Something besides the arguments and the screaming and _everything_." He swallowed, averted his eyes from the table. "I drank two pints, that's the last thing I remember. Then I woke up in someone's bed." He allowed himself to look at Niall, to see his disapproval, but it wasn't there. He looked away before Niall could say anything. "You know what's the first thing I thought of?" he asked, tears brimming his eyes. "I thought, _where the fuck is Louis?_  That's all I thought, because I didn't even know why I was there, thought maybe it was a party and he fell asleep in another room, or something, I don't fucking know." He coughed, obscuring his sob. "I looked around, and. . . He wasn't there. And my car was outside. And then I realized what happened, but I can't remember a thing about that night, still don't. I don't want to."  

"And Louis?"

"Was home, obviously. I just thought of him, the whole way here. Because I still loved him, still love him. I didn't plan to cheat. I've been drunk before but the thought of cheating never even crossed my mind. I take full responsibility for what I've done, believe me, I do. But it feels like I'm taking the blame for someone else, because I wouldn't cheat. _I_ wouldn't cheat, especially on Louis. _Especially_."  

"But you did."

"I know. I fucking know that. And I'm disgusted with myself, and I _hate_  myself, every single day. All the time," he spat, but it was directed at himself. "I sit here, and I feel it. I fucking feel everything. Everything! It _hurts_. It's excruciating, and I just want to see him, that's all I want. I want to apologize, I need to. I want him to hear me out, I need him to know how much I love him, and I want him to hit me again, and make me suffer and leave me because I know I deserve that. I want him to put me down and make me feel worse because I don't expect anything else," he sniffed, and Niall noticed his bottom lip quivering.  

"Harry--"  

"I sit here, and I feel it. I feel, I feel, and I just feel. And I don't want to _feel_ anymore. And I want to get drunk, I need something, anything to take this out of my head--"  

"Harry, please--"  

"Because I just feel everything. But I think of getting drunk," he whimpered, pinching the skin between his eyes. "And I can't because of that night. So I sit here, and fucking feel, and think, and I can't stop thinking. And I can't sleep because I'm thinking too much. And--"  

"Harry," Niall voiced loud enough, standing next to him to put hands on his shaking shoulders. "Stop. I get it. You fucked up. Don't be so hard on yourself."  

"No, you don't get it. He's not coming back, is he?"  Niall inwardly flinched, tried to will the words to come out.

"It's only been two weeks," he said instead. "I know you love him, but he's my best friend. At the end of the day, I'm supporting him. And you really fucked him up, Harry." Harry choked out a sob before deciding to hold his breath, putting his forehead against the table and trying to swallow around the lump in his throat. "I don't like seeing you like this, but you don't deserve to get it easy. It's going to take time if he plans on getting back."

"If," was all Harry replied with.    

 

 

"Hey," Zayn spoke delicately, coming up behind Niall where he spoke to Katie on the phone looking out the kitchen window. He rested a hand on the blond's hip, tilted his head with a soft smile in greeting. "How did it go?" he whispered.  

"Mm. Katie, I'll call you back? All right, bye. Love you, too." He hung up with a sigh, turned to Zayn with a sheepish smile and released a nervous laugh. "This is all a bit shitty, right?" Zayn hummed in agreement, pressing a thumb to Niall's headline to push the blonde strands away. It made the blond lean into the touch; he closed his eyes and shuddered with the warmth the contact allowed. "M'tired. Bone tired and I feel like this is only the beginning."  

"Yeah, baby. Me too. But Louis has no one else, you know that."  

"No, I'm not implying I don't want to _help_  him. Just tired." Zayn's shoulder was there, and Niall couldn't help pressing his forehead onto it, receiving some type of rest as Zayn drummed fingertips up and down his spine. "How was Louis?" he asked drowsily. "What's he doing now, anyway?"  

"Went to change. How are you, though?" he pressed, nudging the side of Niall's face until he looked up at him.  And when he did, dark eyebrows turned down in sudden confusion. "Ni, you're crying. What happened?"  

Only then did Niall feel a droplet on his cheek when Zayn rubbed it away. "Oh. Oh, shit. Didn't even notice," he tried to laugh, feeling oddly overwhelmed. "Don't worry. M'fine, sorry," he stammered, then looked up to smile at him. Zayn wasn't convinced, and swiping one finger to catch another tear, he lightly kissed him, savoring the slightly salty taste on his lips. And it only made Niall more emotional, for a reason he'll never be able to fathom. So when Zayn pulled away and was barely able to register the shimmer in blue eyes, Niall pulled him back, because for that moment with Zayn's lips pressed to his, he felt. . . sated. Oddly better. He felt good. And this was Zayn. _Zayn_. Who he was madly in love with, and fuck. He _loved_ him, and Zayn loved him back, after all this.  

So Zayn kissed him back, not bothering to initiate a move because Niall was leading this time. Was pulling Zayn further into his arms, almost desperately. Was breathing through his nose harshly like he couldn't get in enough air while pressing the back of Zayn's head closer. And Zayn only complied, knew Niall needed this, if the stutter of his heart was anything to go by. But he wanted more, wanted so much more because Niall was slowly drifting away and he needed something to pull him back, something to make him believe this sudden distance was all in his mind. But Niall was slowly breaking under him right now, trembling with shaking fingers pulling at his black hair and smoothing down the back of his shirt. His hands gripped the counter behind Niall to keep himself from gripping onto him tightly. Niall needed this slow. And all that mattered was Niall.  

A noise behing them broke them apart, and they turned to find Louis trudging into the kitchen. "Shit," he blurted. "Shit. I didn't mean to ruin a moment. I thought you were. I don't know--"  

"It's fine," Niall swallowed, turning around to put the tupperware in the refrigerator. "Jeez, Lou. It's just us," he laughed.  

"Yeah, you're right," he sighed, leaning against open fridge door. "You can go back to it, if you want. An open suggestion. I'm not against voyeurism," he smirked.  

"Ha ha," Nial deadpanned, but couldn't help the grin as he grabbed a water bottle to accompany him on his evening run.  

"I'm serious," he whined. "You know how long I've gone without action? Like, _proper_. Feels like forever, man."  

"Invite Harry over," he said mindlessly, scanning the items in the fridge. "We'll have an orgy, right, Za--" he paused, catching up with his words. "Oh my God," he voiced, turning to Louis. "Oh my _Go_ _d_ , Louis. That's not what I meant. I swear--"

"S'fine," he whispered to the ground, pushing his temple away from the door. "Whatever. Really, don't. Just," he trailed, before shaking his head to smile lightly. "How is, you know. How's he doing?"  

The bottle in Niall's hand fell to the floor, and he bent down quickly to retrieve it from under the counter, using this distraction to look away from Louis. "Him? How would I know that?"  

"Don't play stupid with me, Niall. For fuck's sake, I know you went to see him. Otherwise we wouldn't have gone to the fucking gym when there's one in your basement!"

"Louis--"  

"No. No, don't lie to me. I'm not a baby, Niall. I was cheated on. That's it. I'm not dead or injured. I'm fine."  

"But you're not," Niall whimpered, fully standing up now.  

This was a good day for Louis. An exceptionally good day. Because other days were worst.  

"I'm so sorry," Louis confessed in the middle of a B-movie. Niall turned to him in confusion.  

"Huh?" he questioned. "For the FIFA match? Ha, Lou, you fucker, you won fairly. I'll just kick your ass next time."  

"No," he whispered. "Not that." But before Niall fully turned to him again, Louis was bawling into the sheet over his frame, pressing his face into it until he saw colors behind his eyelids. Niall would hold him, always hold him, because he feared if he held on any more loose, Louis would bolt from the couch and do something. Something he'll regret like visit Harry. And Louis would scream, and thrash, and sob about how much of a shitty friend he was to Niall, how oblivious and blind he was when Niall needed him most. And Niall would instantly shoot back that he was no better, that he found out what was wrong when it was too late. And by the time Louis calmed down and settled with hiccups, he'd tell Niall that that was the point, he didn't want anyone to find out, especially Niall since he had problems of his own.  

The movie credits will roll in soon. And those nostalgic nights happened all over again, where Louis would fall asleep in Niall's arms.  

The worst days, the absolute worst days, were uncharted, because there was no warning.  

Louis would wash the dinner dishes, something to do with his hands and keep him busy, and Niall and Zayn cleaned around him, getting ready for a movie or whatever was on TV. They were laughing, _laughing_  with red faces and piercing headaches, and when the chortles died down, Louis' clipped and strained voice pierced through the silence.  

"Who the fuck does he think he is?"  

Niall and Zayn immediately looked up at each other, unsure if they heard it or not, but they were answered when they instantly made eye contact.  

"Um...what?" Zayn asked cautiously, trying to steer the conversation elsewhere. "Ultron, right? Like, who gives him the right to destroy everything?" he laughed. But Louis wouldn't answer, only roughly dried the sink of the excess water.  

"Who the _fuck_ does he think he is?" he repeated loudly, turning around to stare at Niall and Zayn challengingly. "Seriously. Is he fucking for _real_?! That _fucker_ \--"  

"Louis."

"No, Niall. What the fuck did I do? What the _fuck_  did I do? Tell me!" he screamed.  

"You didn't do anything," Zayn interjected, stepping slightly in front of Niall who couldn't bring himself to speak because Louis was fuming, more red than he'd ever been before, more red than coming out the hot tub or after a game. He was red. "You didn't do anything. Don't take this out on Niall."  

"Oh. You think I'm taking this out on Niall? Do you think that, Niall? Do you?" But he continued before he could give his input. "Because forgive me, that's the last thing I want to do. 'Cause right now, I want to kill him. And no, I'm not saying this because I'm mad. I'm not mad at all. But I want him dead. And I want him around me, _dead_ ," he continued. Then he turned around, leaned on the wet sink as it stained the back of his shirt, and stared at the floor in bewilderment. "I just want him, and I fucking want him to explain! But what the fuck, Harry? You don't do that!" He was crying now, unaware. "He loved me! He loved me and you don't do that to someone you _love_. And--  And I don't deserve this shit!" He pushed against the sink and started walking briskly.

"Louis," Niall murmured, reaching for him, but Zayn kept him close, knew this was what Louis needed at the moment.  

"He doesn't even _know_. I love him. And still, I just. I fucking love him, man," he whimpered, throwing his head back and putting a hand over his eyes. "What the fuck went wrong, that's _all_ I want to know. What did I do _wrong_ , Harry? Just tell me. Or can you just. Fuck, I don't even _know_  anymore."

"I don't know what to do anymore," Niall said that night, sweaty and naked in Zayn's arms as they caught their breath together. "Fuck, I've never seen him like this."  

"Niall," he replied soothingly, kissing his forehead, leaving every patch of available skin with a peck. "Baby, I don't know what to say. I haven't seen anyone like this."  

Niall looked up at him, getting a view of a tan jawline until Zayn looked down at him. "Were we like that?"  

"No," he answered immediately, not bothering to think because he and Niall couldn't be like that, hoped they never would. "No, love. Infidelity isn't a trait of mine or yours, so. I can't say we were like that." The blond just nodded, not bothering to look away, making sure Zayn was the last thing he saw before slumber.   

 

 

"I think I should go to class today," Louis said without preamble, finishing his tea and staring down at the mug in front of him. Niall immediately looked towards his best friend to make sure he actually heard right. It took a moment for Zayn's gaze to fall on him, too, processing the confession in his head for a little.

"Beg your pardon?"

"It's been a month," Louis shrugged, breaking his biscuit to pieces. "I've read online that a month is the longest you should wait before you confront him, so."  

"You're not a fucking statistic, Louis," Niall interjected. "If you're not ready to see him, don't."  

"I want to see him," he said instantly, staring up at Niall. He looked vulnerable suddenly, eyes wide and pink mouth pouting on his face. "I need," he swallowed, blinked away to the side. "How could I know where we stand if I keep avoiding him?"  

"Louis," Zayn said slowly, gripping the top of Louis' hand on the table. "Louis, there's nothing I want more than for my best friend and you resolving this for the better. But Harry would want you to be ready. He wants you to take all the time you need."  

"I love him," he reasoned, turning to Zayn with the same expression. "I want to see him." He pushed away from the table. "I'm going to class today. I'll get there on my own. Just, please don't tell him. That I'll be there. Okay?"

He didn't move until Zayn and Niall agreed, and he noticed the way the couple stared at each other skeptically.      

 

It didn't go unnoticed by the peers, the feeling that emitted through the room when Louis stepped in. Something was. . . different. Mr. Styles was different, more alert than he had been in weeks.  Louis just strolled in minutes before class started, sitting in his usual seat in the front. ( _I get the best view of you_ , he had said to Harry with a grope of his arse.) Harry stopped midsentence of his explanation to a student, eyes following Louis where he sat. And, as 'subtle' as he's always been, he immediately sprung from his seat to him, not bothering to notice the stares pointed their way; it was even hard for Niall to ignore where he was placed a few feet away.  

"You're here?" Harry asked quietly, but the sound rang through the now-quiet room. "I mean, of course you're here. That was stupid. I just didn't. Louis, it's been--" his mouth gaped open a few times, and the burden on his shoulders still hadn't loosen.

"Yeah," Louis whispered, trying to obscurely shrink in his seat from the prawning eyes. "Yeah, Harry. I'm here."  

That was the end of their discussion because it was time for class to start. But Harry kept darting obvious glances his way, stating here and there _you've been gone for a month, you don't have to do this assignment_ ; _do you need help? I'm sure you must be confused, I'd gladly help, Louis_ ; _can you please stay after class? I don't want you to do anything you don't want, but please. I'm begging_.  

Niall didn't stay, allowed them to have the privacy they deserved. But he wanted to. He really, really wanted to. Instead he sat in his car, keeping his phone in view in case Louis texted or called for something, anything. Louis didn't.  Louis didn't go back to Zayn and Niall's either that night, told Zayn on his way home that he was going home, with Harry. And Niall could've cried with joy, if Zayn wasn't taking advantage of the empty house with fucking him over the coffee table in the living room, barely minutes before arriving.  

"I missed, like. The first few minutes of _Modern Family,_ " Niall complained and hissed when Zayn pulled out with a tight grip on the tan base of his dick. "Fuck. New episode, too."  

"Are you actually complaining about television?"  Niall laughed, slumped to the floor and grimaced at the substance leaking out of him.

"God, this is disgusting," he continued to whine, spreading his legs and leaning over to view the torn, wet muscle, white oozing out of it. He looked up to Zayn looking at it, too, laying on the table next to him, and he purposely clenched, biting his lip when Zayn looked at him.  

"Don't you dare," he warned.

"Dare what?" he asked, tilting his head to the side and presenting himself more.  

"Niall."

"Zayn." And Zayn couldn't help laughing, standing up to find a towel to clean Niall with.  

A week later, and both Louis and Harry commited a no-show. The class suspected so much, but Niall smiled on his way out of the canceled lesson, assumming they took time off for each other; some very necessary time off.

It was one of those feelings that cast the blond into a good mood, a really good mood. So good he wanted to distribute pizza and great porn to the poverty, starting with the town across theirs that's an easy drive away. A night they were laying in bed, Zayn reading the latest of Nicholas Sparks and Niall playing _Candy Crush_  on his phone, the blond giggled at a memory. A memory of when Greg tried to jump into a ground pool and had accidentally slipped, landing facedown in the water and coming out with red streaks across his face. And then the giggle turned into a few chuckles, until he chortled and guffawed and cried as the scene continued to play in his head.

"Babe?" Zayn questioned, turning his attention away from the book. "What do you find so amusing?"  

And Niall tried, and he _trie_ _d_  to tell him, but when he was calm enough to breathe normally and look his boyfriend in the eye, it took over and he was laughing with his face in the pillow, Zayn groaning idly beside him.  

The next week came and they were back at their normal course, the occasional barbeque of the five of them and a challenging game of FIFA at Liam and Danielle's since a _Wine & Spirits_ is right next to their apartment.  

Niall's happy, _is_  happy, not _was_. And he can't help himself, doesn't want to. So it was past the time peers were roaming when he silently made his way into Zayn's class, undisturbing the man in his task at the desk. He decided to watch instead, the way the tan man's head looked down in concentration and his glasses were pushed over the black strands. His sleeves were rolled to his elbows, showing off forearms of clear and inked skin unequally, and Niall all but just tilted his head onto the door frame and smiled, smiled because he was really in love. And he planned to stay like that forever because he cannot get enough; will never get enough.  

"Hey, handsome," he called after a moment, and Zayn looked up at the voice quickly, a smile slowly forming when recognition crossed his hazel eyes. The gesture made Niall soar, made his insides stay on the ground as he soared ahead.  

Zayn looked up immediately, unaccustomed to flattery on school grounds; not lately, though. He didn't expect to find Niall there, idly leaning against the door frame with a tilt to his head. The smile on his face gleamed in the slanting midday light.  

"Hey," he called back, mirroring Niall's smile. "What's up?"

The blond sighed, looked outside the room and back before shrugging. "M'just bored. Nothing to do around here with Harry and Louis gone."

"I'm here, you know. I'm always here."  

Niall smiled, couldn't help it if he wanted to. "I know," he responded, not bothering to say anything else as he made his way over to the man. Zayn blinked suddenly, unsure why Niall decided to join him today, out of all days. And they were alone, was the thing; which was a good and bad thing.

"Niall?"

It only took a perplexed look to read the question Zayn was struggling to form, and Niall laughed, coming to stand behind Zayn as he hugged his neck from behind.  

"Fuck's sake, bae. Get your mind out the gutter. I _do_  have other things on my mind, you know."  

"Really?" Zayn asked, looking down at his desktop with a curve in his smirk. He placed a kiss on the skin of forearm presented to him, paying attention to the way it blemished under his lips. "Doubt it."  

"I don't," he muffled into the man's neck. "Love you."

"Love you." There wasn't room to say anything else.

It was barely a little later, with Niall perched on the edge of the desk as they laughed at a popular YouTube video, that someone entered the room. They were unaware of another presence until a voice cut through their laughter.  

"My man!" bellowed a man entering the classroom, arms spread wide and ready for an embrace. He was built, a bit shorter than Zayn with muscles that rivaled Liam's. Short crewcut, tan skin, grey eyes, and a white gleaming smile focused in Zayn's direction. Niall never saw him before, and why the fuck was Zayn already at the other end of the classroom, hugging the man's midsection tightly?  

"Ethan!" he cheered into his shoulder, laughing along with _Ethan_  as the man gripped Zayn just as tight. A bit too tight, if Niall was asked. He wasn't, though; obviously. Which was why he sat passively and didn't make a noise as the apparent comrades continued to cling.

"Aw, man," Ethan breathed as they released each other. "It's good to see you, Zee."

"Please. The pleasure is mine. How are you?" Zayn started, before they plummeted into a conversation full of  what happeneds and close deaths and comical memories. It all spiraled with no destination until Niall accidentally--by sheer accident, of course-- dropped a manila folder off the desk.  

"I'm so sorry," he exclaimed, brusquely hopping off the desk to pick it up and rising with a huff as the men turned to stare at him. "Didn't mean the disturbance," he shrugged. _Who the fuck is this?_  his face rang to Zayn. Zayn heard loud and clear.

"Right," he nodded, turning to Ethan while gesturing with a hand for Niall to go to him. "Right, right, right. Ethan, I want you to--"

"Hey, I don't mean to cut you off, but I'm actually on a tight schedule and I just stopped by to say hi. It was nice seeing you." He nodded once, allowing the corner of his mouth to shift softly. "Really, Zayn. It really is."  

"Likewise. Allow me to escort you, then." But he didn't take a step when Ethan blocked his view.  

"Wait. I actually wanted to see if. You know, you wanted coffee? Sometime."  

If Niall wasn't listening before, or even if he was, all his attention haywired to that request at the moment, trying to interpret each word individually. Because no. No one was going to disrespect him like that, not in front of him, not behind him, not when he was around or if he wasn't. And _Ethan_  most likely hadn't a clue who Niall was, and who Zayn was with, and who Zayn was going to marry and spend the rest of his fucking life with, but he was going to find out now.

"Excuse--"

"Ethan!" Zayn immediately said, patting him on the shoulder. "That sounds great, buddy. Just tell me when and I'll bring my boyfriend along, okay? Bring your partner, too. I'd like to know who's the lucky lad. Or gal? You never told me your primary preference."  

"Boyfriend?"

"Yeah. Boyfriend of almost four years, to be precise. Love of my life, actually," he added, turning around with a lift of eyebrows in Niall's direction. But Ethan barely looked away from Zayn.

"Oh. That's. . . That's great! Proud of you, man. Um. Seriously. Congrats." Zayn nodded in acceptance as Ethan asked who was he. At this Zayn froze, thought Ethan would just walk away after his announcement of a stabled relationship.

"He's. . . he goes here. So, yeah. Funniest guy you'd meet, honestly. And beautiful. Really, really beautiful. I love him, E."

"Goes here, sweet. That's just sweet. . . you must spend a lot of time together, great and. What does he do? Must be a lawyer, if he caught your interest that much, right?" he smirked, trying to egg his way into a light tone. "Maybe even a doctor or a writer."

"No. He attends here. A graduate student, actually. Almost done his fifth year of education," he answered immediately, unashamed; just would've rather kept such information to himself.

And he really wished he kept it to himself after he received a blank stare from his longtime friend. "A. . . a what?"  

"Well, you know--"

"You're kidding me, right? A stu-- No. Zayn, come on."

"Ethan. If there's a problem, I'll escort you out. And if it still stands, we'll have coffee and discuss this some other time."  

"No, don't give me that bullshit."  

"What--"

"I didn't come all this way to hear you're fucking someone half your age!"  

Niall was on edge, ready to burst from the desk to demand who the fuck did the man think he is. But he knew Zayn wouldn't allow it, would be furious for _days_  if he got involved in Zayn's dilemma.  

"I reckon this wouldn't be a pleasant departure?" Zayn questioned, rubbed his chin and folded his arms over his blue shirt.  

"The fuck it's not," Ethan spat. He licked his lips to calm himself. "You're dating a student?"  

It took all of Zayn's ability to stay calm, to breathe deeply and suck his lips between his teeth to keep from saying anything at all, because he was so fucking tired of this shit. "That is none of your concern. Now, will you please leave? Thank you."

He didn't leave, only moved to step right in front of Zayn, facing him down. But Zayn wasn't fazed. He sighed, looked to the side, placed a finger over his lip, but his stance never faltered.

Niall was more scared, or intimidated, because the man was strong. Built with beefy arms and veins etching down his neck in anger. And he was almost screaming at Zayn, to the point Niall felt so uncomfortable and scared.

"Stop," he whispered, or hoped he did. But the word didn't carry past the tile by his feet. Zayn was still trying to get in a word or two, but Ethan overcame his tone and threw back another insult. Niall couldn't take it. Not when Zayn was _still_  acting calm, still attempting to keep the peace. "Stop," he repeated, then again when they didn't hear him. "Fucking _stop_!" he breathed. Then he gulped when they immediately looked at him. "Who the fuck do you think you _are_? Just. Just _go_ already!"  

Ethan was intimidating, easily intimidating; someone that'll make Wade Wilson take a step or two back.

"Excuse me?" he asked, turning eyebrows down and licking his top lip. "What did you say?" he repeated when Niall failed to answer.  

"You heard me." Niall looked to Zayn, sensing sharp disapproval even though the man was still facing their intruder. "You're fucking _no one_ to talk to Zayn like that. And he asked you to _leave_." 

"Yeah, and who the fuck are you?"

"Don't," Zayn spoke finally, turning to catch Ethan's shoulder as the broad man made his way towards Niall with balled-up fists. "Don't you dare."  

"Or what?" he spat, shaking Zayn's hand off to turn back to the quivering blond. "I came here to talk to you. Not this dickhead. Who are you, anyway?" Niall didn't say a word, couldn't if he was able to. "Have a name, kid? Or why don't you let the adults talk. I'm sure he gets enough of you--"  

"I swear to God, Ethan," Zayn threatened, suddenly pulling Niall behind him. "I swear to God, get the fuck out of here."  

Niall huffed from the sudden pull of Zayn's grip on his arm, how he tripped to stand behind him. "Zayn," he murmured, hoping the warning in his voice went noticed. "Zayn, I'm--"  

"Niall, not right now. Ethan, go. Don't fuck with me, get out."  

Ethan didn't leave, only smiled to the point his teeth gleamed an obnoxious white as he laughed bitterly. It took a stretched moment and a packet of silence. "Oh my God. This is great. This is-- This is him? _Him_ , Zayn? You settled for--"  

"Don't you dare. I swear to fucking God,--" Zayn started, but Ethan never paused.  

"-- _this_? You could've done so much better. You--"

"-- don't you fucking dare--"

 "--let _him_  fuck your life up?" he smirked, then turned to Niall with a rough point in his direction. "Listen here, you shit. Why don't you go fuck someone else who's--"  

That was all he said, all he was able to say, before a tan hand wrapped around his throat.    

 

 

"Jay said the swelling will go down soon," Niall whispered as he sat on the corner of the bathroom sink. He dabbed a wet cotton ball over Zayn's eyebrow, where a thin gash oozed liquid slowly. Zayn flinched at the contact. "You can't lay down yet, though," he continued, raising Zayn's chin up with a finger. "You banged your head pretty hard, you know?"

Zayn shrugged halfheartedly, trying not to disturb a sore spot on his frame. "I'm fine. How are you, though? Are you okay?"

Niall swallowed, suddenly angry. Suddenly drained and tired and fed up. And if Zayn wasn't in such a painful state at the moment, he might've punched him, himself; or slap him, push him away and curse till his throat begged for mercy because he sure as hell was not okay. And he was just hours prior. Everything was _good_ , so good and calm. Everything was okay and Niall had plans. He wanted to take Zayn to Ireland during the break because Katie suddenly really wanted to see him; and maybe Louis and Harry could've tagged along because they're okay, too; and maybe Liam will go with them to visit his family and Danielle and Lottie have always gotten along so that worked out fine. It worked out okay. And okay isn't the greatest. Okay doesn't promise perpetual happiness and endless giggles between sheets. Okay is average, nor good or bad. But okay was everything to Niall, everything he yearned for for months. Okay was in reach, okay was actually grasped and held onto so tightly. Okay was gone. It wasn't okay anymore.  

"Don't ask if I'm okay, Zayn," he replied, looking down to place a skinny-white bandage on Zayn's chin, but the man jerked away before they made contact.  

"What's that supposed to mean?" he asked, curling his lip in annoyance.

"It means don't ask if I'm okay. I'm tired and fed up with all this shit," he spat, jumping off the elevated surface as Zayn responded immediately.  

"Tired? What the hell are you tired of? You didn't get punched in the face, if I recall. Neither did you get beat up in your own class."

"You didn't get beat up," Niall muttered, already making his way out of the bathroom as Zayn followed behind him, shirtless with a square patch on his shoulder and scabs already forming over his knuckles.  

Zayn didn't hear Niall's response, only a mumble of sounds as the blond quickly made his way out. It was a strenuous effort, each step towards the youth, but he continued, repeatedly asking what the hell Niall said.  

"Nothing! Fuck's sake, Zayn. It was _nothing_! Just drop it!"  

"Why are you so bothered?" Zayn screamed, throwing his arm in Niall's direction sharply. "What the hell happened now?"  

"Are you serious, Zayn? You wanna go there? You seriously want to talk about what _obviously_  just happened?!"

"Yes! Otherwise, I wouldn't have _obviously_  asked!" he huffed, trying to obscure his jolt from the numbing pain going up his arm.

Niall simply covered his face with a hand and breathed deeply, tried to keep the stutter of his heart to a normal rate. "What. What is it you want, Zayn? Tell me. I'm not arguing with you tonight, I'm not. I'm tired so what do you want?"  

He heard Zayn's rough breathing, how it took effort to breathe normally and resist meeting a sore spot. "All right," he started, nodding slowly. "All right. You're right. We're not going to argue. We're just going to talk. Tell me. What's wrong?"

Sitting on the end of the bed, peering through fingers to look at Zayn, he spoke evenly. "Who was that?"

Zayn immediately froze, unprepared for that question. And Niall noticed his timidity. "He's a friend."

"Friend, my ass, Zayn, who the fuck was that?"

"He's a friend, I swear."

"Know what," the blond mumbled, rising slowly from the bed to go through his drawer. "I'm going to bed. You're able to sleep here if you want. Good night." He stripped himself of his clothes slowly, knowing exactly what he was trying to do. His back was to Zayn, letting the man get a view of the planes of his back when he rose his shirt off, the dip above his arse and swell of it as he bent down to put on sweatpants that hung loosely by the waist when he turned around to view Zayn in the same exact position. He wasn't clueless; Zayn was.

"We met in uni," Zayn started, because if he wanted a piece of ass he was going to have to play by the rules. "We were roommates and became friends."

"Aw, that's cute," Niall absently said, stealthily moving his dick to be more prominent under the thick layer. It didn't go unnoticed by Zayn.

"Niall. . . Look. He's the past, all right? That's all he is."  

"What did you do?"  

The moment stilled between them. Niall forgot that he was trying to seduce Zayn; Zayn forgot he wanted to get his dick wet at the moment. They stared at each other. Zayn swallowed, uncomfortable.  

"We met our first year of uni. I was going for Latin and he was going for Culinary Arts. We just hit it off instantly. He was my best friend along with Harry. I was bi. He was going through a phase, and I was there." He waited for Niall to respond, but he didn't. "By the time we were sophomores, he changed his mind and joined the military instead. Then he left and I hadn't seen him until after I graduated. Then again when I went on a business trip a few years back, and so on."

"Were you serious with him?"

". . . I was."

"And you never bothered to tell me about this?"

"It's in the past, Niall. Why would you want to know about my past?"

"Because that's what couples do! They talk about their past!"

"I don't want to know about your past with someone else!" Zayn responded as he stood up. "You're mine and that's it. I can't even _think_  of you with anyone else. I just," and he shook his head of thoughts, trying to get images out of his head. "Whatever. He was just a guy from uni."  

"Am I just a guy from uni, then?"

"What?  

"You heard me. Tell me. Am I just a guy from uni? From school? The past?"

"Why are you saying this?"  

"You couldn't even introduce me to him?"

Zayn gulped and blinked a few times. "I did. I tried and he interrupted me."

"Bullshit. That's bullshit and you know it, Zayn!"

"You were there!"  

"You're a liar, you know that? You're lying to me!" he screamed, jabbing a rough finger towards Zayn. He was screeching, boiling red in the face and heaving for air. So he left before Zayn could see him cry.  

He was trying not to, trying with every step downstairs and every breath and every view around the house. Zayn couldn't see him cry, couldn't know how insecure he felt. And fuck, did he feel insecure. This Ethan fucked everything up. This fucking dickhead ruined a good thing for Niall. There were times he had to hold onto Zayn a bit longer, a bit tighter, letting others know Zayn was _happy_ and _taken_. Niall knew this, knew Zayn was obscenely attractive that it could be nerve-racking. He knew people approached Zayn when the blond wasn't around because some showed up even in front of him. And every single time, Zayn will politely decline, will deliberately say he was taken, and Niall would smile and be content and fall in love all over again. But _this_ , this was an actual threat. Such a fucking threat and Niall felt betrayed. He felt low and shitty and--

"Niall, what's going on?"

"When was the last time you spoke to him?" he whispered, voice dropping too low and bordering between threatening and intimidating. His hands gripped the counter, facing the backyard window with his back to Zayn.

Niall's grip tightened.

A bird flew past their view.  

Zayn gripped his own bare arm.

"Last week."  

Why Niall didn't physically react at that exact moment, he will never know. But he did close his eyes soon, and nodded slowly. "Last week." He swallowed, nodded quicker and pushed fallen blonde strands off his forehead as he turned around and faced the floor. "Last week, okay. And he didn't know you were in a four-year relationship. Okay."  

"Niall, it's not what you think."  

"I'm tired," he mumbled, rubbing a hand over his eyes. He couldn't emphasize the word enough. Zayn gripped his wrist, pressing into the pulse point while his other hand scratched the nape at Niall's neck, silently begging the blond to look up at him. He didn't speak until he did.  

"Baby, I swear. I swear on everything I love. I swear to you, us; nothing happened between him and me while we were together." He licked his lips, alomst choked on his tongue when Niall didn't respond. "The last time we bumped into each other was years before I first saw you and. And I saw you and had eyes for no one else. You do know that, right?" The patch on his shoulder was bloching red, and his firm grip on Niall caused a few scabs to open. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry I never brought us up and I don't expect you to forgive me, but please know it was never intentional. It's always an email every few months with barely one full sentence, I swear." His lip twitched. "Yes, I was serious about him, but I never loved him. I didn't lie to you, I only ever loved you. I--" He huffed. " _I love you."_

Okay.

"I'm," Niall stressed, staring directly at Zayn, "tired."  

 

 

It was three weeks since they dropped Louis off at the airport, weeks after the Ethan-incident.

Niall sat in the mall's diner, staring at the white and blue-and-red-speckled linoleum floor as single mothers and teenage couples passed by.  

"I'm going home," Louis had said.

_I'm going home._

_I can't take it._

_All I see is him with someone else._

"I love him, but all I think of is getting back at him," he had said, with a broken voice and wet eyes. "I can't do this."  

Niall sat in the mall's diner, watching the flickering light of the Thai restaurant sign and thought of Harry's pleas, how his desperate words will never leave Niall's mind.  

"You don't have to do this," he had begged, held onto Louis' shoulders tightly to keep him anchored.

_You don't have to do this._

_I'll do whatever you want._

_I won't know what to do._

"I love you, I adore you and I'll do anything," he had said when Louis knelt down to place the duffel bag's strap over his shoulder. "You don't have to be with me. Just, stay." Louis had the courtesy to smile lightly and press a kiss to Harry's cheek, all the while embracing him until Harry heaved a shuddering breath. _I'll call,_ Louis responded.  

And as Niall drove back home from the airport, he had thought what was Louis doing at the moment. What was he thinking, who did he sit next to. He was going back to their hometown. He will be the first to see their families permanently; Niall missed them.  

And then he didn't; had no reason to when Louis called him a few days after his departure with the news.  

"Hi," Louis had started, and his timidity was evident. "Niall, hi. Um. There's no ice breaker for this," his voice had shook, etched with pixie-like noises through the line. "Niall. I'm so, so sorry. . . ."  

Niall sat in the mall's diner, paying attention to the Mexican place, realizing it was closed down.      

 

 

"Do you think we need a break?" Zayn asked, not looking up from the meal in front of him.  

Niall slowly looked up, made sure it was Zayn who voiced that, made sure no one else was around.

"...What?"  

"You know. I've just been thinking a lot. And lately, with everything. And before with all of that."  

"You're breaking up with me?"  

" _No, no, no, no!_ I'm not. I'm just," he scratched the back of his head, mouth moving to form words he didn't know of. "Maybe we need a break? Just some time off, okay? I don't want--" _you to leave me when I don't expect it._ "I just--" _don't want you to leave at all._ "I'm not pushing you away, okay? Baby, I love you and--"  

"I'm leaving."

 Niall didn't look away, not when he saw each word take form in Zayn's mind, not when Zayn paled in front of him, almost losing all color.  

"Niall."  

"Can you just hold me, please?" Niall sobbed, quickly covering his face because the cries racked his body and he didn't have the energy to do much of anything else. Niall wanted so much more than a hug. He wanted Zayn to carry him to bed and strip him of clothing just so they can be pressed together skin to skin, nothing else. He wanted to wake up with Zayn making breakfast, the smell of seasoned hash browns and creamy coffee curling in the air. He wanted Zayn, Zayn, Zayn; Zayn everything. Always wanted Zayn.  

By the time he came into focus, they were in the living room, facing the kitchen and Zayn was rocking him repeatedly, murmuring nonsensical things into Niall's hair. He smelled of the cologne Niall bought him, of wood smoke and spicy after shaving; Niall loved him. Niall really, really loved him.

"Katie relapsed," he whispered, bringing meaning to unasked questions. Zayn picked up what he meant, if the paused hand down Niall's back was anything to go by. Niall cried again, cried harder than before.    

 

 

Zayn huffed out a breath, making sure the bags were tucked correctly that he was able to see out the back window if possible.  

"There," he beamed, stressing his smile as he turned back to Niall. "Everything's packed. We still have a few hours before we leave, too."  

"You didn't have to miss work. I leave tonight."  

 _I need as much time with you as I can,_ Zayn swallowed down. He moved until Niall's forehead pressed against his lips, didn't stop until Niall held him just as tight. "I love you. We'll get through this, I promise. Once school's over, I'll get on the first plane. Have one waiting outside my door, in fact," he chuckled. Niall smiled, too; knew it wasn't entirely out of Zayn's league.  

"Zayn?"  

"Yes, baby?"

"We aren't. . . Like, we're not on a break, right?"  

The man trailed his hands down, rested one on the boy's waist and the other wrapped around his wrist loosely.

"Niall, look at me." The blue in Niall's eyes was shimmering. "No. No, baby, we're not. There's no reason to be." He kissed Niall's temple, didn't pull away.  

Niall didn't know if he meant because they loved each other too deeply, that they would get through this; or because they were about to be on one, anyway.

 


	9. Chapter 9

Greg met Niall at the airport, a little boy jumping at his father's feet.

"Hey, precious," Niall immediately squealed, swooping down to pick up Theo as his nephew laughed and gripped onto him tighter. "Jesus, you're getting so big on me. Did I say you can do that?" he huffed, putting the boy on his shoulder and attacking his pudgy stomach with tickling fingers.

"Okay! Okay, Uncle Niall!" the boy giggled, still giggling with rosy cheeks when Niall put him down . He bit his bottom lip in a beam, and Niall was a bit more happy, putting his hands on his knees to be at eye level with his nephew.

"I thought I told you to call me _Tío_ ," he playfully grimaced, reminding Theo of his Spanish lessons.

"No," the boy smiled back, gleeful blue eyes matching Niall's. "You're Uncle Niall."

Standing up straighter to greet his older brother wasn't as pleasant; not when their last discussion was days prior, a heated dialogue via mobile that resulted with Niall crying in the corner of a room and Zayn finishing the conversation in the hallway.

"Where is everyone?" Niall said, bending down to pick up Theo, needing something else to focus on.

"With Katie." 

Niall knew what that meant, and it was only for the boy in his hands why his lip didn't tremble. Instead he faced Theo, smiled all the same because it was impossible not to. Not when his nephew smiled back like Niall made the stars shine at night and the birds sing in the morning.

"Well," he responded after a moment, softly pushing Theo's head to lay on his shoulder as he kissed his young forehead. "Let's get going, then."

The car ride over wasn't silent, with Theo singing along to the radio and occasionally pointing out something they passed by, but Niall nor Greg spoke. Niall wouldn't, couldn't; not when he felt so betrayed. By his whole family. Not when there was too much to say in the vicinity of a small car.

"Uncle Niall, did you see those cows?" Theo exclaimed, pink mouth dropped open and blue eyes bulged in astonishment. Niall's mouth curved on one side, looking at the green scenery.

"Yeah, bud. They're huge."

"Uncle Niall, that airplane is close," he said ten minutes later, leaning in his carseat to plaster his face against the glass window. Niall peered out the window, hearing the aero-engines as the plane soared away.

"That's a big plane, right? You could almost touch it."

Theo laughed to himself, reaching his hand to the carpeted top of the car as he imitated gripping the plane by its wing.

They crossed a bridge, Niall paying close attention to the specks of shimmering light on the water's surface as Theo looked to either side of the bridge, gasping at the brilliance.

"Uncle Niall, we're like a thousand feet high! Like. Like I can't touch the water ever!"

This made Niall laugh, slumping in his seat at his nephew's innocence. God, he missed this. "I know. It's pretty, yeah?" It was. And it sent a wave of calmness over Niall, making him _really_ smile for the first time in weeks. Everything will be okay. _Everything will be okay,_ he kept telling himself. It needed to be.

When they parked in the hospital's parking lot, a weight of nostalgia fell over Niall's shoulder, physically making him slump as he viewed the building. It didn't. . . It didn't even change, was the thing.

It was the same. And for an uncharted moment, Niall felt like he was ten all over again, holding his little sister's hand as she threw up bile again and again in the container they gave her, his small hand against her two-year-old back, keeping her weight up before her body failed her.

And here he was, almost twenty-two, struggling to face the past that suddenly appeared again.

"Hey, man," Greg spoke for the first time, turning around in his seat to look at his son with a smile, "Wanna show your uncle to the room? I gotta go back home _really_ quick, okay?"

"Okay!" he immediately answered jovially, difficultly trying to unstrap himself as quick as possible. It was when he got out and waited by Niall's opened door for him that Greg spoke to Niall.

"Hey," he whispered, gently holding Niall's shoulder. "Look. I know--"

"I'm here for my baby sister and my nephew. That's it. This isn't a vacation for me, all right?" he snapped, turning to his brother with a raised eyebrow. It didn't take long for Greg to respond, quickly nodding his head with a clipped mouth.

"I understand that, Niall. I do, but--" he huffed, scratching his face as he looked forward, sighing before turning to Niall again, clarity in his eyes. "We're a family. And right now, mum needs us. She's going to need us more than anything." Niall sensed he wanted to cry and no, Greg didn't have any right to cry. Niall did, and still, he held onto the barrier with as much willpower as he could summon. "We need each other."

"How bad is it?" Niall squeaked, daring a glance at his older brother. And with the dead look he returned Niall really wanted to hug him, wanted to feel some type of intimacy with someone because no, no, _no_ , this wasn't happening again.

"Niall, I--"

"Uncle Niall, we gotta go! Nana has my dinosaur I wanna show you!"

Niall turned to Theo with a beam on his face, holding his hand and closing the door as they made their way towards the automatic doors. Niall remembered when he and Katie used to come years ago, how they'd opened their arms in sync with the gliding doors and walk with capes of blankets behind them. He would tie around his neck the green fleece throw his aunt gave him while Katie had one of pink with crowns adorned in the stitching, trailing behind them like they were King and Queen. It suddenly didn't feel so long ago.

"Hi there, Theo," the receptionist greeted them, black hair tied in a bun, "who's this with you?" she asked, eyeing Niall appraisingly. And he didn't blame her.

"This is my Uncle Niall," he said proudly, swinging their joined hands and biting his smiling bottom lip. "I'm gonna show him my dinosaur."

Niall was stuck between discomfort towards the lady and awe with Theo when she slowly stood up and walked towards them, a look of shock slapped across her face.

"Niall?" she questioned, and yeah, Niall was definitely uncomfortable, shifting in his stance and trying not to turn his smile directed to her into something perplexed. "Niall, it's-- oh my God, you were just a little boy, I," she paused, taking the time to breathe in and smile widely. "You used to always visit me when you came with Katie before." It looked like she was about to cry. Not that her eyes were watery, but her red mouth was quivering and Niall felt a slab of sympathy roll across his back; it must have been the fact he had been more sentimental in the past few weeks than in his whole life.

So he voiced quietly and respectfully that he didn't remember her, but moved in to hug her when it seemed like she was moving to do the same. It was slightly relaxing, the contact. It was new. He hadn't touched someone new in so long, even platonically.

"Of course you wouldn't remember," she gently chuckled when they pulled away. "You were so little. And Christ, _your hair_! It was _brown_ before."

That made him laugh also, self-consciously petting the bleached strands on his forehead aside as he looked to the ground. Theo was perched idly beside him, minutely swaying side to side as he watched the animated program on the TV behind the glass wall.

"You and Katie would stroll in with your capes, I remember," she continued. "You had a _Ninja Turtles_ quilt."

"Yes!" Niall chuckled, able to recall that, specifically. "That, I remember." He felt light, kind of. A bit less heavy with whatever was holding him down. He felt. . . good; as good as he could. She told him another memory of Child Niall, making Theo crack up at the part his uncle let his sick aunt color his face with Crayola markers. Niall laughed also. He didn't remember that, but it did sound hilarious.

"Well, I'll let you go now," Dorothy (she provided when Niall asked in the middle of the story) said, sighing with contentment. "It was a pleasure seeing you, Niall. You've finally grown into your chin and forehead," she joked.

When they left, Theo skipping to avoid stepping on the black tiles, he looked up to Niall with a pout.

"You didn't tell me you had a _Ninja Turtles_ blanket."

"Oh? And was I supposed to?" he smirked.

" _Yes_. You're old already, you don't need that. I do!"

" _Heeeeey_ , I'm still young. How old do I look?"

Theo had a set look on his face as he mulled it over, eyebrows pulled down and mouth puckered in thought. "Twenty," he answered. Niall laughed and shrugged.

"What's your toy dinosaur's name?" he asked in the background music of the lift, leaning against the back railing. He must have said something vulgar or obscene, because his nephew looked up at him with disbelief, mouth dropped open and eyebrows hidden beneath his growing bangs.

"Did you say _toy?!_ "

"Um--"

"He's not a toy! He's a real life Chasmosaurus and he protects me when I'm sleeping. Daddy said so," he stressed, making his point law with one strong nod.

"And where did you learn such a big word?"

Theo sucked his teeth in annoyance, like Niall was that persistent tourist who asked all the stupid questions at the wrong time. "Everyone watches _Dinosaurous Adventures_ , Uncle Niall. My goodness," he sighed.

Niall couldn't help the abrupt laugh that shot out his mouth then, clamping a hand down to stop it midway. God, this kid was something else. He was so funny. And even now, quasi mad at Niall and not looking where he was walking, he was asking questions. _Where does the sun go at night? How old are toilets? How many muscles do you need to pick up a house?_ He was so imaginative, was the thing. He was smart and witty and clever and. And he reminded Niall a lot of Zayn.

And Niall hadn't thought of Zayn since he got off the plane. His phone was dead so he couldn't check if Zayn tried texting him or left a voicemail. His charger was in the bag on his back, snugged tightly beneath the extra clothes he brought to change. He could swiftly charge his phone in the back of the room or the corner in the lobby; Dorothy could watch it. But he suddenly stopped thinking of Zayn, then. Because Theo paused outside of a room, and Niall looked to see _Horan_ inscribed next to the door.

"Uncle Niall?" Theo asked, and Niall never heard him speak so weak, almost careful with a sense of uncertainty. The toe of his scruffy sneaker kicked the air silently, and his hands were tucked behind his back, head bent to the floor with a sad mouth. "Is Aunty Kat gonna die?"

Niall couldn't breathe, almost dropped his bag from the sudden loss of physical capacity. With one knee hitched on the ground and a hand on Theo's shoulder, he gently prodded the boy until he looked up at him.

"Hey. Now why would you ask that?" he pressed, a lilt of hurt and pain smothered at the end of the question. Theo only shrugged, looked to the side and whispered he heard daddy talking to nana and mummy that this time didn't look good. Niall really couldn't breathe, wished he brought his inhaler because his throat suddenly felt ticklish, causing air to travel tightly. He didn't ask how bad Katie was, didn't think he needed to since his brain was still fired with images from the first time. But that was it. It wasn't the first time. It was the second. And that can only entitle one thing. He knew many cancer survivors; not one who lived after having it crawl back into their body a second time.

"Listen," he voiced, for his nephew and himself. "Katie is going to be fine, okay? Don't worry. Can you do that for me?" Theo nodded tightly, big blue eyes framed with tears that didn't spill. He wiped them away when Niall looked towards the door. "Everything's going to be fine."

Zayn would have to wait.

 

  
Seeing Katie in the hospital bed wasn't how he planned to be greeted.

He was prepared for it. He was ready for the sunken-black eyes and the chapped-pale lips. He was ready for claustrophobic spaces packed with family and Katie barely smiling or laughing. He thought he was ready.

But actually seeing it in front of him--the tang smell of antiseptic in the air and immaculate walls with no paint and wood chairs by the window filled with family he hasn't seen in years--was a totally different perspective. One he would have liked to let pass him by.

Katie was wearing a beanie, one he recognized as his. (He must've left it in his room when he moved to uni years ago.) It was burnt orange and covered with lint, trying to obscure the fact that she lost her hair. He only knew she relapsed for almost a week and all her beautiful hair was gone. No eyebrows, either, and sparse eyelashes. She was asleep, head lolled to the right, and all her natural red hair was gone. It was so beautiful. And she was still beautiful but Niall knew how much she loved her hair, how she was born with light brown wavy hair and all the chemo changed the color when it started growing again.

He wondered what color her hair would grow back to after she was done all the medication, would it change into a deep brunette or go back to light brown; maybe even burgundy.

He was too focused on watching her lay limp in slumber, wires connected under her nose and in the crease of her elbows, some disappearing under the layers of cotton blankets that he didn't notice the figure coming towards him. His memory picked up the scent of the person, how candle wax and winter fires immediately dashed through his mind.

"Bob," he said astoundedly, hugging his father to him tightly. If he hadn't seen anyone for the longest, it was his father. The last time they spoke was when Louis and him played on their county football team.

Bobby hugged him back just as firmly, fitting his forehead into Niall's neck because though the distance, no one will ever take Bobby's place in Niall's heart, and vice versa.

Niall knew any other time his father would scold him for calling him by his nickname, a joke that started and never stopped when Niall was thirteen and tried to be cool in front of his friends. But all he did when he pulled back was affectionately tap Niall's cheek, a smile curving along the edges.

"My boy. Haven't seen you in so long," he stressed, chucking the back of Niall's head into another strong hug. Niall only buried his face into his shoulder, needing the support and happy he was back home.

 

  
Saying hi to his mother didn't go as planned; she didn't even know he was coming, hadn't spoken to him since Louis' departure. So when she woke up after a nap on Katie's right side of the bed to find Bobby, Greg, and Niall discussing hushly by the opened bathroom door, she gasped and woke up Katie also, causing a migraine from the sudden jerk from dreamland to reality.

They were happy after his explanation, and they apologized after Niall deliberately (but respectfully) told them the fuck off for not telling him. And after they all calmed down and Niall was perched on Katie's left side, holding her frail hand in his as they discussed the prank they performed on Maura, her bottom lip quivered slightly, only perceptible because Niall was paying close attention to her every move.

"Kat?" he asked quietly, not wanting to get the attention of their mother on the phone a few feet away. It only made her mouth tremble more, until she pressed her forearm against her mouth to not make a noise. After a bit, after Niall coaxed her to relax and she was controlling her sniffs to sound audible when Maura spoke a bit louder than usual, she spoke.

"I just didn't want you to see me, like this," she confessed, not-so-stealthily wiping a tear before it fell. "Out of everyone, I didn't want you. To see this."

"Hey," he practically whined, voice broken and on the verge of pleading. "Don't talk like that. I'm your brother, all right? I _want_ to see you, all the time. Scales and all," he tried to smile, an insider they made up right before she started school.

It made her grin and attempt a nod against the bruising headache, so it was worth it. And she went on to beg Niall not to be mad at them, because it was her wish not to tell him until it was necessary. She told him there was going to be a time to tell him, but Niall blocked that bit out from cementing in his mind.

He was with his family, with his loving nephew and still-charismatic sister. This was what he needed to worry about.

 

  
He stayed in the guestroom of Greg and Denise's home. A cozy room with one big window and a spacious closet. He liked it, was able to put his things away quickly.

But now that everything was away and the house was dead with sleep, there was nothing else to do. He was too wired to sleep, too tensed from the day and too cautious of what tomorrow would bring.

It was weird getting into an empty bed, and in that moment as he curled into himself without another body behind him, he allowed himself to think of Zayn.

Zayn, who was maybe sleeping. Zayn, who booked Niall's flight and packed his suitcases because the blond was too distraught and preoccupied to do it. Zayn, who Niall missed with a fire in his body to light a thousand suns and burn the whole universe into nothing.

He missed him with a raw emotion ripping down his back, cutting over each knob in his spine, each rib in its way, every tissue across its path. It was incredulous how much he missed him in such a short amount of time. But fuck, Zayn wasn't there. Zayn wasn't there to push his hair back when it got too hot. Zayn wasn't able to tickle the space above his hip until he flopped and fell asleep with the strenuous effort of getting away from prawning fingers. Zayn couldn't tell him one of his encounters with his father's many odd customers. Zayn couldn't tell him that everything was going to be all right, placing a kiss on the soft skin of Niall's neck for reassurance.

Maybe he became dependent again, went against Liam's wishes and stumbled down the hill that lacked independence. Niall couldn't bring himself to care if he was able to. Zayn wasn't there and nothing mattered so much in so little bit of time.

Plugging the phone to charge and waiting for the messages to pop up, he only got one that mattered from the bunch.

 _Now you're going places while I'm home alone sulking aha :) xx_ , it began. Niall had to stop and close his eyes because he could vividly picture Zayn smiling down while typing the message, holding his bottom lip between his teeth. _I will never make fun of you again when you complained I left too often, this sucks babe . already missing you xx_

Niall fell asleep with the phone tucked under his pillow, right under his ear as the thin strip of moonlight from the window drifted him to sleep.

 

  
He fell into a routine of sorts, something manageable and so common he did daily activities without thought.

Wake up, text Zayn good morning, clean himself and the room, eat, the hospital. Then he would go back to his stay and fall asleep before he even took off his clothes.

Being with Theo was fun, and it tamed the urge to call Zayn and cry through the phone how alone he was, how he was surrounded by people he grew up loving but they didn't help with his loneliness.

Theo reminded him a lot of Zayn; the way he answered questions, the way he thought on a subject with a smolder and a hand rubbing his chin or scratching the side of his face. He loved animals and hated litter and supported equality so strongly that it amazed Niall. Theo was six with a mentality too grand for his little body.

Theo taught him the genetic differences between mice and rats, he taught him how cockroaches survived world disasters, he taught him where babies came from.

"Wait. . . . you know where they come from?" Niall had asked one day they were at the zoo, taking him out as a favor since Katie wasn't in her best state that day and Greg really didn't want Theo to see her like that.

"Of course, Uncle Ni," he had sighed and shook his head. "They come from that pill girls take a lot after they get married. It turns into a baby after they swallow it, duh."

Niall had no idea where that came from but was relieved his nephew still had his innocence.  
He saw Louis for the first time since arriving three weeks afterwards, working at a diner downtown until he went back to finish the course he was on.

It was drafty, a little misplaced when they hugged and overly unbearable when they didn't know what else to say after a few minutes of Louis being on break.

"I'm sorry for breaking down the news to you, in that way, you know," Louis had said before the silence grew thicker and there was no room for anything else.

"No, don't be sorry. It's because of you I'm here. So thank you for that, actually." He reached over and with a shake in his hand, gave Louis an affectionate chuck on his chin. Louis' mouth blossomed into a smile, then. And they were going to be fine.

A little over two months afterwards, after getting a part-time job at the coffee shop he used to go to as a kid and spending every possible moment seeing Katie or Theo, Zayn called. It wasn't the first time he called, but he was working, and Paul wasn't the most lenient manager.

"Um. Hey?" he greeted. It started with _Hi, baby_ , voiced tinged higher and pouring with adoration that sloped into _Hey, babe_ , love voiced in the phrase but not carrying farther than the first word. Now it was _Hey?_ , question mark hanging tightly at the end and breathed out quickly, the one syllable toppling over the wind.

"Hi, beautiful," Zayn said through the line, leaving no room for opinions or beliefs or _questions_. It was matter-of-fact, stated proudly and firm enough to face any brusque wave. "How are you?" he rushed out, like he was clutching the phone tightly to his ear. Niall was too busy making sure no one was looking to notice.

"I'm good always good, you know. You?" he quickly asked, too formal for Zayn's liking, but Zayn wasn't there, didn't want to talk about it through the phone.

"I'm okay," he lied. "Listen. I know you're working, I just wanted to say I won't be able to call tonight."

"Oh." Niall didn't know why Zayn was telling him this. It wasn't like they talked on the phone often, anyway. But if he deemed it worthy of proclamation, Niall would go along with it. "Uh, okay, that's cool." It took a paused moment for Zayn to reply, like he was trying to form words to someone who didn't understand.

"Today's the last day of school, and all. Gonna have a few drinks with Harry and them."

"Hmm," Niall hummed, unsure what else to say because that was kind of obvious; Zayn didn't have to tell him. "Have fun."

And no. Zayn wasn't there but Niall was supposed to tell Zayn _don't have too much fun, babe, think of me_. But instead those two clipped words were the only ones echoed through the phone.

"Okay," Zayn almost laughed, because this wasn't going the way he would like. "I'll see if I can call tomorrow. Got invited to the students' graduation party this year, too. Neat, right?"

And Niall was supposed to pout, whine _no it's not, I won't be there._ But instead he was cleaning the table in front of him and keeping his voice low. "Yeah, awesome! Knock yourself out, man!" _Man_. Zayn wasn't just _man_. He was _babe, baby, bae, love_. Something, anything else, but not _man_. And Zayn felt lost for a moment, like he was dropped off at the wrong school and no one was around to point him in the right direction.

"Niall, I love you," he stressed, right at the moment Michael flicked Niall's available ear and hissed _Higgins is looking at you!_ warningly.

" _Fuck_ ," Niall whispered sharply, ducking around the table. "Yeah, me too. I mean _you_. I love _you_. Bye," he signed off, tucking his phone away right when Paul reached the table he was leaning over, wiping the surface in wide circles.

Zayn didn't call the next day.

 

  
Niall took care of Theo on nights Greg had to keep their mother from drinking her stress away and Denise needed to work an extra shift. He didn't mind, would never mind. His nephew was smart and mostly listened the first time and he looked up to Niall so it was good. It was enjoyable, how they would both get stuck in a sticky situation (literally; attempting a peanut butter smoothie and the evidence strewn all over the counters and floor) but would brush it off with a loud laugh facing each other.

One night, close to midnight, he took him out to get ice cream, buying Theo cotton candy-flavored while he himself got cinnamon bun. They sat at the sole table by the shop, a useless red beach umbrella opened on top of them as they struggled to keep their ice cream from spilling.

Niall wasn't unhappy, per se. _I have my nephew_ , he kept reminding himself when he blanked out in thought on his bad days. _I get to be there for Katie_ , he chanted after realizing at the end of the day that tomorrow will be the same. _I'm with my family_ , he smiled, and it helped a bit. It made him really smile and kiss his mother's forehead more tenderly when he left to go back home.

He just felt like he was living two lives, one here, with the people he knew all his life. And the other with Zayn, crawling into bed with him and making fun of the big words he used in daily conversation. He hadn't seen Zayn in four months, roughly 120 days, a third of a year. Looking at it through that perspective genuinely scattered his mind in the cruelest ways. It ripped the layers of nerves in his skull and tore through his brain stem, making him feel weightless in the bad way, like nothing was keeping him grounded, like there was no support to hold onto.

He was so lost in thought, he didn't notice the sugary custard dripping on the metal table, didn't notice Theo asking him repeatedly if they were able to see _The Iron Giant_ when they went back home. Didn't notice the girl walking towards them.

"Excuse me?" she spoke, and the slight rasp in her mouth, almost. . . . imperceptible, caused him to look up at her.

"Yeah?" he responded, smiling and making sure Theo was beside him.

"I hope it's not a bother, but since there aren't other tables around, may I sit in the corner?"

"Oh God, of course. Make yourself comfortable," he offered, scooting closer to the side with Theo pressed against him, blue ice cream framing his mouth as he lapped at the remaining droplets. They ate in silence, Niall relasping back and forth between reality and memory. She spoke after a bit, probably not familiar with dead silence.

"Nice night." She nodded down at her dessert, chocolate cookie dough ice cream with sprinkles. Weird.

"Hm? Oh, yeah. Yeah, it is."

"What's your name?" she smiled, and Niall was immediately uncomfortable, slightly fidgeting in his seat and trying not to seem intimidated.

"His name is Uncle Niall," Theo chirped, tryiing to lick the sticky blueness at the corner of his mouth. "He's my Uncle."

"Aw," she laughed, peering down at him as he continues his fruitless efforts. "Really? I didn't know that." Niall thought she was sarcastic, taking advantage of Theo's innocence. And he turned to bite something back but she was looking at Theo softly, almost longingly. He didn't say anything, only smirked at his nephew who continued to praise him.

"All right, bud," he soon interrupted, smiling as he wiped the boy's mouth, "Let's not bore her, right? I'm sure the lady doesn't wanna hear 'bout me."

"But who wouldn't want to hear about you?" he asked with a squint in his eyes, like it was absolutely unbelievable to believe such a thing.

She laughed at their discussion, golden hair sparsely catching the streetlamp light. "He must look up to you," she smiled to Niall, catching sprinkles on her twirling spoon. "Kind of how it was with my baby sister."

"Are you kidding me?" Theo continued, abandoning his empty cup to gape at the lady. "Uncle Niall is the _best._ He even knows all the dinosaurs!"

Niall couldn't help the chuckle he released in the foggy night air, failing at obscuring his smile around the filled spoon in his mouth. It helped that she laughed also, content with his nephew speaking for the both of them.

 

  
Niall met up with Louis again a bit into the sixth month, where the post-summer air faded into the asphalt and the leaves changed colors.

Louis looked good. His face glowed under the setting sun, lips smooth and smiling the whole time and he gained weight, looked fuller under the burgundy jumper and managed to fit more meat into his sunken cheeks. There was no hesistance from his part when Niall arrived at the bistro across town, near the ballet studio Louis dropped his sisters off minutes prior. And he hugged the blond to him and squealed with delight as he confessed how much he missed his best friend.

"Jesus, Ni," he beamed, lightly smacking both sides of his pale face. "What took you so long to finally see me?" Niall didn't know if it was rhetorical or not, but he still shrugged and moved into Louis' touch.

"Wasn't sure if you were busy or not. And had a lot of catching up to do with my fam and all." He shrugged again when Louis deadpanned at him, finding his excuse invalid.

"Oh, Niall." He slowly shook his head. "If you only knew who cares for you the most."

It was while they were sitting down, sharing a buttery croissant between them with two iced coffees long diluted from the melting ice, that Louis plucked the question out of the air finally and asked in the middle of Niall's story of mischievous Katie.

"How is Zayn?" he interrupted, not bothering with the crumby pastry in front of them. It took a thick moment for Niall to answer, switching the gears in his mind and trying to answer as truthfully as possible.

"He's good, I think." He wanted to get up and throw their trash away but there was more to say. "I haven't seen him in months, obviously. And yeah, we don't talk as much, but he's good. He hasn't seemed different or anything."

"Why doesn't he come to see you?" Louis heard the answer beforehand but not directly from Niall.

"Because I won't let him." There was an awkward laugh from Niall, then, actually coming to terms with how wrong that sounded. "Wait, not like that. I just know he has his own things to take care of, and I don't want him to stop anything because of me."

"But what if it's for him, too? He had the whole summer and you wouldn't let him?"

"No, it's not. Forget I said that. I know he has a lot of promos and catching up to do with his dad's business. I didn't want him behind to come see me."

"But he misses you."

"I know he does."

"And you miss him."

"Yeah, but--"

"You don't think you could go see him for a weekend?" he questioned, like maybe that never crossed Niall's mind.

"I know. I know, Lou. I just." He exhaled slowly, noticing the last rays of sunlight. "I don't know when Katie's leaving. It doesn't look too good and I know." The sleeve of his sweater fiercely wiped under his eye. He would not, would not do this in front of Louis. "I can't leave her."

Louis was closer than before, suddenly sitting right beside him with a hand on Niall's shoulder. "I didn't know this," he whispered, wishing he could go along with his and Zayn's plan but his best friend needed him more at the moment. "Fuck, Niall. I didn't. Nobody told me that."

"No. We don't want a lot of people knowing. Don't say anything, okay? Liam doesn't even know and he's family." Louis quickly nodded, not even thinking of sharing such drastic news with anyone.

"Hey," he spoke quietly, when Niall seemed to pull himself together. "You know he'll pay for the extra procedures and shit, right?" And Niall quickly shook his head because no. No no _no_ he was not using Zayn's money; he would never be able to repay him.

" _No_ ," he voiced, almost wincing at the crack in one syllable. "No, I won't let him. He's already offered and I specifically told him if he offered again we're done. We'll be done."

"Niall!" he hissed, a breath of disbelief tainting the name. "You would do that if he just tried helping your sister?"

"I can't let him do that, I can't." Louis went to reply but Niall knew how to shut him up. "Besides, she's on the list for the bone marrow transplant. We're just waiting for the call."

"What number is she?" Louis asked. Niall could cry at the hope surrounding his voice; he doesn't say Katie wasn't eligible as a bone marrow transplant candidate. He just shrugged, because that was what he responded with to shut Louis up. It worked.

"How's Harry?"

Louis wan't prepared for the question, and his face immediately turned into a look of discomfort and confusion.

"...Harry? He's. . . I don't know, fine?"

"You sound unsure."

"Because I am."

"You don't know how is he?"

"I don't talk to him."

"At all?"

Louis shook his head, paying more mind to the watery beverage in front of him, swiping his thumb across the condensation.

"You mean you haven't spoken to him since you left?" There was a blanket of tension over them again, and in reply Louis just slowly nodded, accentuating each move of his head as he turned to look at Niall then. Niall didn't know what to think or say. "Are you serious?"

"I have nothing to say to him, Niall."

"I know, but... You said you were gonna call him at the airport, and." The blond couldn't help but feel a bit down, like a weight brought his mood and existence into a darker, gloomy place. "He was really looking forward to that call after we dropped you off."

Louis didn't know how to respond, how to gesture his body or where to look. Niall looked at him the same way, the frown becoming personal and disappointed.

"Louis, come on. You said you were. And you're doing so much better."

"I'm not good, Niall," he finally said, becoming defensive and sliding the glasses back in place. "I'm better, and I'm happier, but I'm not good. Heartache is a bitch. There's not a measure to it, no time limit, no warning, nothing. It's a fucking bitch, and I _want_ to be good, okay? I'm working on it."

"Louis--"

"I need to get good. I'm getting there, I am. But if I contact him," his tone dropped, and there wasn't malice in his eyes anymore. "If I just hear his _voice,_ I. I can't do that to myself, I'm sorry."

"I thought you were good, had me fooled there," he whispered with a smile, calling it a truce because the hunch in Louis' shoulders couldn't take any more. Louis' mouth twitched on one side, and he gave Niall a grateful look.

"Don't worry about my relationship, or post-relationship. Worry about yours."

 

  
There were days Niall tried furiously to stay happy, to keep a smile for his mother and sister and laugh at all of Theo's silly dance moves. Those days were the hardest, because everything was so difficult.

He only got out of bed because his nephew literally wouldn't stop jumping on him until he did, following him to the bathroom as they brushed their teeth together.

Michael kept him from thinking too much at work, kept him from wondering what was Zayn doing at the moment, who was he with, kept him from checking his phone for the tenth time that minute.

And he kept himself from pondering over selfish needs when he was with Katie. Katie, who went through chemo more than anyone else on her floor and still managed to make a joke about her lack of hair. Katie, who spent most of her days on her back than necessary and laughed honestly at all the funny parts in _Three's Company_. Katie, who wanted to hear all about all of Zayn and Niall's stories when everyone else couldn't stand the stench of antiseptic after awhile.

These days took everything out of Niall, left him bare and vulnerable for the moments he was alone and too weak to deflect the worrying thoughts from seeping back. These days left him unable to call Zayn pet names, unable to voice just how much he really loved him when they hung up or said good night.

There were times Niall couldn't help the itching in his throat, couldn't stop the first emotional hiccup and _definitely_ couldn't stop Zayn from hearing it over the line.

"...And then we went to-- Babe?"

"Hm?" Niall quickly countered, trying to seem okay even though Zayn couldn't hear him. But Zayn still knew him, knew how he diverted situations and conversations he really didn't want to meet.

"Baby? What's wrong?"

And he was stupid, Zayn was so fucking _stupid_ for asking that because the real question was what _wasn't_ wrong. And he could've just ignored the noise and continued talking about how his niece lost her tooth and Niall would've made all the appropriate noises at the appropriate places. And this was supposed to be about Zayn because everything was always about Niall and how was he doing and I love you and I miss you and I can't wait to see you and. And he was stupid, Zayn was so fucking _stupid_ \--

"Niall..."

There was an undercurrent to his voice, something resembling a plea and comfort.

"Can you please finish what you were saying?" he hushed, hanging his head on his knees as he curled against the top of his bed, leaning against the chestnut headboard in the dark.

"Baby, I...I can't. Not now after--"

"Shut up, Zayn."

Normally, Zayn would retaliate with a firm point as to why he shouldn't be quiet. He would bring it respectfully and if Niall got a little loud they would discuss the issue or just call it night. But Zayn did shut up. Because Niall told him to be quiet with a whimper, and before he was finished the remark he was sobbing, sobbing into the space between his knees and keeping the phone secured against his ear because it was the closest he could get to Zayn.

Zayn stayed quiet while Niall let out his first cry, he let him calm down again. But when it appeared the end was never coming, that it was only growing, something crawled over him and latched onto his back, sinking its nails in him because he couldn't do anything.

"Niall, what can I do?"

Niall made a series of noises, all gargled and sad. This was when Zayn's chest beat painfully, almost anxiously. This was when he physically shook with fear, sweat until he pushed the fallen black strands off his forehead and tried to breathe evenly.

"Baby, tell me what to do. I'll do anything. You know that." "I miss you. I miss you so much." "I love you more than anything. If anything happened to you I'll lose everything I ever needed." "You're the greatest thing to ever happen to me and I'm so grateful, Niall."

On and on, he continued, saying things his mind couldn't register until afterwards. He would admit confessions and pour his heart out and would only stop to inhale. He continued until Niall told him he had to go, Theo was knocking timidly on the door, whining he had a nightmare.

He wouldn't hear from Niall for a few days, and he bet everything he owned it was because the wailing boy felt ashamed, embarrassed with their last conversation. Zayn wouldn't care, never cared, just wanted his baby happy.

****

 

_You enchant me... even when you're not around. Miss you more than anything, babe xx_

 

 

Those days were more often than not, more often than Zayn could endure, but thank God for the occasional satisfying days.

Occasionally Niall woke up before Theo, running into his room and saying a Stegosaurus was charging after them, and they had to run to the bathroom before it was too late. And as they brushed their teeth with water splashing everywhere and toothpaste stains littering the sink, well, Niall could actually smile and give Theo a thousand kisses (in Theo's words) before he went to school.

And Niall would call Zayn afterward, and Zayn would always pick up, and before he can say good morning, Niall's charging, expressing so excitedly how great Theo is, how funny and _smart_ he is.

"He reminds me so much of you, Z. He's funny, and he has sharp teeth and he calls them fangs just to feel cool and that reminds me of you, too," he'd continue, almost breathlessly, and Zayn would mutter _heyyyy_ but wouldn't dare interrupt Niall. "And he's so _smart!_ So much like you. And he has long eyelashes, too, and he wears two pairs of socks and that's so--" and he'd stop, suddenly feeling choked up with happiness as he'd duck his head and whisper, "I miss you. I miss you so much, you know." But when Zayn offered to go, he'd decline because--

"I'm barely in one place at a time," was his excuse.

Work would be funny, sometimes a bit drunk when Michael brought a bottle of expensive liquor from his grandfather's stash. It was the good kind that left a throbbing taste in the back of Niall's throat, but it was hilarious how Michael tried to ring a customer with a straight smile as Paul watched on with folded arms. Sometimes while they were closing, the bottle long finished, they'd trip their way home together, singing _Come On Eileen_ at the top of their lungs, only dispersing when they took their separate trains.

"Zayn, I swear he dyes his hair more than me, even _you_ would be grateful, and--" and Zayn would whisper _I'm always grateful_ as Niall continued, "he has a collection of guitars. Z, he even has amps, like! It's sick!" And Zayn would laugh, the genuine kind because no matter how desperate he felt or _scared_ of the distance, he couldn't help being genuine in every single way when it came to his boy, his baby boy.

Katie was ever the same, the only bad day being the day Niall arrived. They watched the Twilight movies because Katie just finished the saga.

"When they confessed their love, I thought of you," Niall'd softly say through the line before he'd embarrassingly laugh. "Fuck, forget I said that, that sounds so gay." And Zayn would think _no, no, that's not gay at all_.

One of Katie's favorite princesses was Princess Anastasia because she's so underappreciated and one of the only princess films not from Disney.

"She's always bringing awareness to people who aren't known. Reminds me of you a lot." _Let me see you_ , Zayn would respond, because he couldn't keep track of when Niall was in a good or bad mood through the phone and he needed to see him since. Since it's been too long. Too, too long and. And Zayn needed to see him so bad he couldn't go to sleep some nights. He literally needed to see him, needed to hear his blond mutter _Idiot_ under his voice with a loving smile; needed to hold the pale wrist between his fingers and marvel at his soft and clear skin; needed him to love him; needed him in every way possible.

"My mum's been feeling ill. I don't think she wants visitors around, you know?" was his excuse.

Greg took him to play golf once in a blue moon, and Bob went along, too. And it was good bonding time for them, and if Niall honestly thought long on it, he couldn't remember the last time just the three of them had been together.

"My boys," Bob would say, ruffling their hair roughly. "You used to hit the ball barely ten feet. My boys are men."

"We are meeeen," Greg would start, and Niall would immediately jump in, citing the next verse of _Make A Man Out Of You._ The perplexed look their father gave them was expected, and then he'll just shrug and shake his head, muttering _Don't wanna know_.

When Katie wasn't granted visits, Niall would take Theo golfing, just the two of them, and he could picture through his father's eyes how he must have looked when he was the same age, the club almost as tall as him. It was amusing, the way he'd sigh in frustration and just throw the ball into the open field before Niall would stand behind him and grab the club with Theo's tiny hands under his, lightly hitting the ball to watch it soar away.

" _Whoaaaaaa!_ Uncle Niall, do that again!" And while Theo was soon hitting them on his own, Niall would sneak a few photos, grabbing all of them and sending them to Zayn with _check out his smooth movesssss, learnd frm t best!_

_I can't wait to actually meet him :) xx_

"Zayn can't wait to meet you," Niall said, putting his phone in his back pocket. His nephew perked up at that, abandoning the sport as he expressed how awesome Zayn was, he couldn't wait to see him either, when is he gonna see my dinosaur collection? Niall never responded to them.

Niall's life revolved around Theo and Katie, Theo and Katie. He wanted Theo to have a bright future, one filled with many possibilities and many girls and many accomplishments. One with many goals that would all be successful. He wanted him to make a name for himself, set himself somewhere high and never settle with what was given to him. Niall liked to think that Theo would look back and thank him because as Greg was so busy lately and Denise was always by Maura's side, trying to appease her sporadic moods, his nephew only really had him. He was the most constant presence in his life and he mentioned it to his uncle one night Niall put him to bed.

"What?" Niall mindlessly replied, uncomfortable with how grown Theo sounded at the moment.

"You're always around. You're always here. And I know where to find you."

"Well." Niall shrugged, not wanting to be too soft at an emotional time. "I'm your Uncle Niall. 'Course I'm going to be here."

"Thank you." Why did he sound so grown? Why did he look so sad now? Why couldn't Niall just say you're welcome and leave?

"For what, Thee?"

"I don't think Katie's gonna have someone always around and it makes me sad."

"Now, wait. Don't say that. Don't you dare say that. Katie has Mummy, she has Daddy, she has nana and pap. And she has me and you."

"I heard mummy and daddy talking again. They said Aunty Kat doesn't have a long time here. I think they said she's going to die," he whispered, and Niall knew he wanted to cry. Theo quickly blinked, and he was too young to try and be so strong. He was too young to experience this. Niall was ten the first time and it didn't take much to shudder at gruesome memories. Imagine Theo.

"Theo, listen."

"I want to always be there for her. I want to be the always person. I'm scared she's going to die and not have a person. I want to be that person. And--"

"No!" Niall shook with the thought, thoughts. He leaned away from Theo to rub harshly at his eyes, how a headache was forming behind his eyes and nose. "Theo, don't talk like that! Katie is not going to die, and you are going to stay here with us and be that person for her, okay?" Theo's bottom lip shook. "Do you hear me?"

Theo nodded furiously, bit into his lip and got up to kiss Niall on the cheek. "I'm sorry I got you mad. Please don't cry, Uncle. Tomorrow I'll color you a picture at free time if you don't cry."

Niall released a watery laugh, chucked Theo under the chin and said, "I want colorful guitars and a lot of footballs. Good night and I love you."

Niall never dwelled too much on the good days. He knew they never last. But he didn't think it could get worse.

 

  
There was something to be said that Niall didn't scream when he found out his nephew died. There was something in the way he didn't respond at all when his crying brother left to the other room, left Niall alone to think of the last time they spoke, just the night before when his nephew confessed all of that.

There was something to be said how Niall didn't have the energy that morning to get up when his baby nephew rushed into the room and explained a T-rex was right behind them. He can't remember what he responded, but knew he lightly brushed off the boy and what felt like hours later the same boy was kissing his forehead as he departed for school.

There was something in the way he sat immobile for the rest of the day in his room and waited for his kid nephew to come back and exclaim how he finally beat the fastest boy in his class in a race. There was something to be said, something. But he didn't know what to say.

He didn't sleep that night, didn't eat and waited for his nephew because of course his nephew was going to bound into his room and spend the hour with him before Niall went to work. Of course he was going to dunk his bookbag's belongings on his bed and give Niall his favorite Hot Wheelz car to borrow as he finished writing his homework and neatly writing his name five times in the lines. Niall didn't answer the phone, not when Michael called the fifth time and Zayn stopped calling after the third.

He was waiting for his nephew to come home and give him the drawing he promised, but instead it's given to him by Denise, and why were her eyes bloodshot and red? Why was she crying and handing the crumbled paper to Niall with shaking hands and whimpering noises? Why did she suddenly throw herself on Niall and didn't stop crying? Why was she explaining how someone died, how they lost their grip on a swing and fell on their head? Why didn't she stop screaming until Greg had to come in and physically pick up her dizzy form? Why wasn't his baby nephew here yet?

He allowed himself to look at the picture, then. And it made him gasp how it was exactly the way he asked for it. Blue and green instruments bordering the thick paper with black and white footballs. There were two blonde figures in the middle, one taller than the other. They had the same blue eyes.

"Theo?" he called, because he wanted his nephew to explain the picture to him. He wanted to hear his squeaky voice while his stubby fingers pointed at the drawing. "Theo, I'm in my room. Get over here right now!"

The door did open, and a tan man with a worn leather jacket stood by the door. He was too tall to be Theo, and Niall couldn't breathe suddenly. The man was staring back at Niall, unsure what to do with himself, and Niall smiled, leaped up and threw himself into Zayn's arms.

"Zayn! You're here!" And he allowed himself to cry, then. Because he was so happy. His boyfriend, his man, the love of his fucking _life_ was in the same room as him after months and Theo drew him a pretty picture and the three of them were going to have so much fun together. "Baby, you're here," he sobbed, couldn't help but kiss Zayn repeatedly, marveling at how _good_ he smelled, how much he wanted him at that exact moment but Theo was going to come in soon and he couldn't have him seeing that.

"Niall?" Fuck, his _voice_. It wasn't deflected by the grainy line and his mouth was moving in sync with the words instead of a beat late over Skype. "Baby, I came as soon as I found out." He was talking like Niall was a scared animal tucked into the corner of a room. Like he was trying to lure him out with food on his fingertips and a slow cautious voice. "Love, I am so sor--"

Niall was placed on his bed with Zayn sat next to him, keeping a firm grip on pale slick biceps. Why did Zayn look so sad when Niall was so happy? It made Niall breathe heavily, and where was his inhaler?

"Zayn, why do you look sad? I am so happy right now, you don't even know." He was still sobbing, smiling the whole time and Zayn was worried as fuck. "You finally get to meet Theo. Oh, baby, he wanted to meet you so bad." If Zayn flinched and became sadder, Niall didn't notice. "Look, what he drew me, baby!" Niall continued, displaying the paper in his hand to Zayn. Zayn didn't look away from him.

"Niall."

"Hold on, I'm gonna call him and have him explain it because--"

"Niall, stop."

"No, don't worry, Zayn, it's fine. Theo? Come here! Look who's here!"

"Niall, that's enough."

"Shut up, Zayn. Theo, I want you to meet someone! Theo, get in here right now!"

"Niall! Stop that!"

Niall went to get up, suddenly fidgeting in his skin, suddenly sweating and he couldn't remember the last time he showered, couldn't remember what day it was, but Theo was supposed to be home by now. He called out again, _demanding_ Theo, his _baby_ , to get here _right_ now, but he was met with a feminine wail in another room. Might've been the TV, but Theo's rushed footsteps weren't heard and Theo was starting to make Niall angry because two of his favorite people were in the same house and one of them was taking too long.

"Theo!"

"Niall!"

"Get off me, Zayn." Niall was almost out the door, almost in the hallway where he could see Theo's locked door, and Zayn gripped his arm, pulling him back. "Zayn! What are you doing? Get off me!"

"Niall, I'm so sorry. Baby, I'm sorry, please stop." Why was Zayn crying?

"I need to talk to Theo, get _off_ of me!" He was shoving, shoving against Zayn's chest because they weren't supposed to meet like this, he wasn't supposed to come back because of a crisis. He shoved and his elbow connected with Zayn's face but his grip wouldn't budge. And why was Zayn still apologizing? "Zayn," he whimpered. "Zayn, please let me go. He's in his room. He's in his fucking room!" He couldn't see in front of him, couldn't feel where he was shoving and suddenly he couldn't hear anything but his own cries. "You're lying! You're all fucking lying and this is not funny! Theo, get the fuck over here right now!" His feet must've slipped, because before he crashed to the floor, he's pulled up and landing on the bed. He doesn't have the energy to fight anymore, but his pleas were heard. His continued _please, please, please_ ; _you're all lying to me_ ; _Zayn, get away_ ; _I just want my nephew._

And he was pulled into a deep, strong slumber, only recalled before he blanked out the apparent hurt on Zayn's face. How he never saw his love in so much pain and he was going to kill whoever put it there.

 

  
He thought he was dreaming when he woke up in a room that's not his own, too elaborate. And he was _sure_ he was dreaming when Zayn was in the chair across the room, sleeping with a painful angle to his neck. But as he pinched his skin and slapped his face, he wasn't waking up; and when Zayn woke up from the commotion and immediately and sluggishly sauntered over to Niall's side, the blond couldn't really tell the difference between reality and fantasy because Zayn was here, and the look on Zayn's face reminded him of a bad dream that Theo died.

"How are you feeling?" Zayn asked, rubbing sleep out of his eyes and kneeling on the floor next to him. Niall couldn't tell the difference between reality and fantasy when he went to touch Zayn's face, and it felt so real. And he loved Zayn, so much, and was struck with the realization this was reality.

Maybe Zayn just didn't want to say anything else, or he slowly watched the pieces fit together on Niall's face, because before the boy's bottom lip trembled and he whispered _Where's Theo?_ , Zayn got up to fit the boy on his lap, not bothering to interrupt the silence as the blond cried quietly.

He cried because Theo wasn't coming back. He wasn't going to grow up or grow broad shoulders. He wasn't going to go to college or lose his virginity. He was never going to have his first girlfriend, first kiss or broken bone from a football game.

He cried because Zayn never got to see him, either. And Zayn was seeing him because of a tragedy.

 

  
The funeral was just how Niall remembered his grandfather's older brother's to be. They were in a Catholic church with high ceilings, and the choir were fucking singing. Singing as Niall leaned over the cold boy with eyes never to be opened again; singing while people came to pay their respects; singing when Niall helped carry a small casket out of the building.

He didn't watch the burial, couldn't watch it if he wanted to. But Zayn was there as he put his throbbing head between his knees and counted to ten, again and again as cries were heard a few feet away as the body was being lowered. Zayn was there throughout everything, and Niall knew he didn't deserve him. And when he said this Zayn just set his mouth in a line and told Niall whether he believed that or not, he wasn't going anywhere. And Niall went to cry but Zayn was there, too, making sure Niall's head didn't bump into the open door and instead on his shoulder, big tan hands going around to rub his back.

This was heartbreak. This was soul-shattering and irreparable. This was life changing, in the truest extend of the meaning and the most drastically purest way out. This was life changing, because Niall looked at everything in a different way.

It reminded him how everyone was going to die one day, and how no one had a say on what day they die, how they die or where. And he looked up at Zayn, finding the man already looking down at him, and he was filled with so much. . . emotion, feeling; all mixed up in an ugly way but he just wanted Zayn to know he loved him.

And later as he went to say that with unbuckling Zayn's pants, Zayn softly stopped him, softly shook his head and softly muttered _no_. And Niall didn't want soft. He wanted hard, rough, sharp. He wanted Zayn to be rough with him, wouldn't mind if he even bled if it meant he wouldn't think. But as Zayn softly--softly--declined him, Niall got angry.

"Don't tell me no," he smiled, shaking his head as he went towards his pants again. "You can't tell me no."

"Niall. I said no." It took Zayn physically pulling pale hands out of his pants and making the blond sit down for him to react. Zayn doesn't tell him no.

"Who the fuck do you think you are?"

Zayn looked prepared for this, like he knew Niall was going to blow up soon and just waited his time. That made Niall angrier.

"No. Don't answer that. You're going to fuck me, and when we're done you're going to fuck me again. Got it?"

"Niall."

"No, don't _Niall_ me. Don't look at me like that again. Don't fucking tell me no!" He was shaking, physically shaking and Zayn was here; that meant they were together and Zayn still hadn't fucked him after he asked. "Fuck me, Zayn."

"I can't."

"Fuck me. C'mon, I know you want to."

"I didn't bring anything."

"You don't need that. Just fuck me. Fuck me and make it hurt."

" _Shut up!_ "

" _Then fuck me!_ "

And Zayn did, used his spit and tried to finger him open when Niall roughly pulled his hand back, shaking his head and screaming _no! Fuck me!_

Zayn had the tip in, holding the base tightly because Niall's face was already pinched in pain and he couldn't; couldn't hurt Niall.

"Niall, I can't do this." He was put under pressure, unsure of what to do, and Niall knew this, knew Zayn wasn't thinking straight. And thriving in the fear coursing down his spine he pushed him in the extra inches quickly, sharply; couldn't hold back the painful wail he emitted. He was crying, then, not because the pain. And it needed to be pain.

"Fuck me now," he breathed, turning his head from side to side, trying hopelessly to get the thoughts out. "Zayn, please. Fuck me like you mean it."

"Don't make me do this," Zayn practically begged, because no matter how tight and wet Niall was around him, no matter how fucking good he felt, like he could come with one push, he would stop. He would stop without a thought and pull out, resume like nothing happened.

"Zayn," Niall moaned, leaning up to bite Zayn's ear the way he knew he liked, used the purring tone that had Zayn's back flex under Niall's delicate fingers trailing up to grip his hair tightly. "Baby, didn't you miss me? Show me how much you missed me."

And he fucked him, fucked him hard and reveled in Niall's scream. He fucked him till Niall squirmed and didn't know what to do with his trembling legs slipping off Zayn's waist and hanging limply by his sides. He fucked him till Niall couldn't release a noise, twitching with each thrust and dribbling pathetic drops of come onto his clenched abdomen.

Zayn fucked him again because Niall wouldn't let him go, suddenly gripped his tan hips tighter and made them rock more fervently into him than before, causing Niall's breath to shake and sweat to glisten off every surface of his body. He fucked him with pale legs over his shoulders because Niall always crumbled in this angle and he never saw his blonde boy so desperate for more, despite the tears and utterless whines and trembling limbs.

And when Niall was laying on his stomach sobbing _again_ , Zayn gathered what little energy he had and fucked Niall deeper than before; fucked the little life out of him till he fell asleep, ignored his own stressed muscles and pushed until Niall's frame was shaped into the mattress longer after he stopped; didn't cry until he tucked Niall into bed and went out to the balcony of the hotel he was staying at.

 

  
Niall woke up when a beam of light tickled his eyelashes, causing an internal battle as he struggled to leave the real world for a few more moments. But as he moved his neck to shy away from the sunlight, something broke and erupted little shards of pain down his back, and he unconsciously whimpered into his pillow, suddenly and fully regretting the night before.

Zayn would never let that go. Niall didn't even blame him, even he was ashamed of his acts. He wasn't drunk, he was blatantly sober. He remembered everything and Zayn wasn't in bed with him. And when Niall felt the space next to him it was like turning a pillow over; so, so cold.

There were clothes of the blond's in the suitcase Zayn packed for himself, and Niall didn't know how the man would react to him wearing a shirt that obviously didn't come from his back, but there was no extra clothes, and he did not want to wear the crumbled blacksuit near the end of the bed.

Zayn was in the balcony, red eyes from lack of sleep on display and a cigarette in his mouth. He didn't even bother blowing the smoke out, just let the drifting wind pluck it out his open mouth.

Niall meant to make his presence unheard, just letting Zayn come to him at his own time, but as he stepped onto the outdoor concrete and rustled the leaves of the nearby plant, Zayn immediately looked to his direction, let the fag hang off his fingers over thin air as he rested his forearm over the balcony's border.

There was a pregnant silence between them, neither bothering to break it as Niall looked to him and Zayn viewed on the same. He was wearing the same thing as yesterday, white shirt unbuttoned and the tie's ends hanging loosely on each side. As Zayn looked at Niall's appearance, taking in his disheveled hair, bagged eyes and wrinkled shirt, Niall allowed his eyes to skim down Zayn's inked arms, how there was a new tattoo placed just above his wrist and--

"I thought you quit," Niall blurted, noting the white stick dangling off Zayn's hand. He meant to greet with something like _good morning_ or _want breakfast?_ , in hopes his actual message rang clear: _please forget last night_. But his opportunity was vanished as Zayn looked down at the smoking item, too, completely cutting Niall's chance.

"Thought I did, too." He shrugged, bringing the end to his lips and inhaling more than a lungful before stomping it out, holding his breath for a moment before breathing out deeply, smoke obscuring his face from Niall's.

Something happened between them, and Niall wasn't able to pinpoint if it started back during uni or just last night, but something's disabled between them, something potent and Niall felt a bit out of place, like he didn't belong there. Maybe he never did.

"M'going to the hospital, might pick up Theo after--" he cut himself off, forgetting that--

He can't finish the thought. Only changed what he was going to say.

"Might stay with Katie," he shrugged, because his throat was already expanding and he did enough of crying; didn't want to cry anymore when there were people who needed him to be happy.

Zayn only nodded to the floor, looked up and tried to smile, before darting inside to change.

It was quiet at the hospital, Dorothy granted Niall an offset smile as he walked in, didn't bother saying anything; Niall wasn't sure if he was grateful or fucking annoyed. Katie graced him with a replica of her million-dollar smile, and it made Niall laugh weakly because Katie tried, Katie was trying when everything and everyone else was shit.

Especially Bob who couldn't--wouldn't--stop cursing Greg's name, raging that if he took Theo out of that shitty public school none of this would've happened.

Niall took him into the hallway, knew it was only going to spiral down because his father was a spitfire and Niall didn't let anyone talk about his family in such a way. Even his own father. And he needed to defend Greg since he wasn't there.

They were hushly spitting remarks back and forth, evidenly arguing when a figure approached them cautiously.

"Niall?" It was Zayn, dressed in dark clothing as he handed a long bag to Niall. "I reckoned you'd want your suit back. It's dry cleaned and everything."

"Who the fuck is this?" Bob immediately bit, because Niall lied about going back home and spending last night alone. "Niall, who's this?"

"Okay. Okay, look--"

"Answer my goddamn question!"

This was when Zayn ventured, standing between them and asking the stranger to politely bring his voice down and to watch what he said to Niall.

"Zayn, that's Bob," Niall whispered quickly to his tan back, kept his voice low because Bob was one minute away from bashing the next person who spoke.

A fast moment passed, the name clicking in Zayn's mind as clarity crossed his face with a blush and he stammered over an apology, saying he would have preferred they met in a different setting under different circumstances. "It's nice to officially meet you, sir," he tried to smile. And Niall wanted to stop the introduction right there, and he heard his heart beat heavily in his ears because he couldn't bring his body to stop this.

"Who are you?" Bob repeated, just as harshly.

"I'm Zayn, sir," he nodded, and Niall was thinking _no no no no please stop_ before his father asked _Zayn who?_

A slow moment thickened, Zayn's outstretched hand fell by his side in defeat, and when he looked back at Niall, letting every emotion uncurl over his face, he handed the bag over and left without another word.

His departure took some of Bob's anger with him, because as the door closed behind the leather jacket, he turned and shook his head at Niall, and Niall cannot, for the life of him, bring himself to answer that question his father asked once again.

 

  
The hotel suite Niall stayed at that morning was empty when he arrived hours later, but Zayn's bags were still there so he sat at the table and placed his phone in front of him, couldn't bring himself to do anything else until Zayn arrived.

And he waited, and tried counting the dust in the air, noticed one of the curtains was a bit shorter, and as he was in the middle of counting in his head, Zayn walked in and ignored Niall. He kicked his bags to gather in a pile, hanged his jacket by the chair Niall was sitting in and opened the blinds to let the dwindling light in. He was humming a tune to himself, mindlessly scratching his hip as his phone rang, and picked up instantly, greeting joyfully and laughing barely fifteen seconds later.

Probably an hour goes past, and Niall still hasn't said a word. So he gets up, finds Zayn lounging in the balcony with an apparent novel, and almost explodes right there. But he doesn't know if it was anger or disbelief.

"Zayn."

There was a pen cap in his mouth.

"Zayn?"

He turned the page, gripping the paperback tightly.

"Zayn, please."

"I'm reading."

"Please don't do this."

Zayn looked up then, kept his head facing the book but brought his eyes to dart on Niall, piercing his gaze heavily.

"Don't do what?" he asked, bringing the cap out of his mouth and flicking the book to the floor, all the while standing up. "Please, enlighten me. Don't do what? Keep you a dirty secret for four, fucking, years?" he spat, passing Niall as he made his way back inside.

"I hadn't talk to him in years," Niall whispered, following quietly. He knew he was in the wrong; he knew Zayn had every right to be mad. "I'm so, so sorry."

"Yeah, okay," Zayn deadpanned, walking back and forth brusquely, sitting on the edge of the bed before sprinting up to dash through the living room.

"Zayn, please don't do this," he pleaded; he had no reason to plead, but never before was Zayn mad at him, and he had the whole right to be. "Zayn, can--"

"Just tell me one thing. Tell me," he fidgeted. "Tell me this wasn't the first time I was brought up." He walked away. "Tell me you at least talked about me a few times before but he just can't recall those times. Come on, tell me that."

Niall didn't.

"Niall, tell me that you've mentioned my name, you've said _Zayn_ at least once in his presence." He leaned over the table, tapped his foot harshly, and when Niall didn't even visually respond, he threw the vase towards the wall; letting shards of glass and water trickle down its surface. Niall covered his mouth, jumped back because Zayn never physically reacted in a heated discussion.

"Zayn!"

"Shut the fuck up," he hissed, before his voice grew with each word. "You shut the fuck up!"

Niall stayed quiet, tried not to sob with fear as Zayn fumed, pulled at his black hair and breathed harshly.

"Niall, how could you? After everything, after-- Fuck!"

"What are you doing?" Niall whispered when Zayn went through his bags. "Zayn?" he asked louder, when Zayn was evidently zipping them, piling them near the door. "Zayn, what are you doing?"

"Do you have any idea how much I love you?" Zayn laughed suddenly, turning to Niall with something in his eye. "Do you have an _idea_ how much I _feel_ for you? Yet I can't stand to be in the same room as you!"

"I said I was sorry! Fuck, I'm so fucking sorry, okay? My dad's homophobic! Thr last time we talked before I came back was before I even met you!" he huffed, because Zayn was pinching the skin between his eyes. "Before I met Harry, before I stepped foot into uni. I didn't talk to my dad in years, okay? And there was so much shit going on, I-- I didn't want to add anything else!" he screeched.

Zayn looked up slowly, didn't give away any thought passing by his face. "Okay. I see you have a lot of shit going on. So I'll leave you to it."

"You're leaving me?" Now it was Niall's turn to laugh, because Zayn wasn't. He wasn't breaking up with him. Not like this, right? Right?

"I'm leaving _here_. I'm going back home and I'll call you in a few days, okay?" And no. No, no. Zayn wasn't going to be calm now. Fuck that. Fuck him.

"Know what? Fuck you!" Niall screamed, and he grabbed whatever was closest to him and threw it towards Zayn. "Here, take all your shit with you! Don't forget your shitty book! Don't forget your cancer sticks and here!" He roughly took off his shirt, ignored the way it scraped up his back in the process. "Take this shit with you, too!"

"Niall, calm the _fuck_ down!"

"No!" he spat back. "Nooooo!" he repated because Zayn didn't have the right! "You wanna act like a baby? So can I! How the fuck is Ethan, huh? Yeah, don't think I forgot that!"

"You're still on that?"

"We've never fucking solved it. You say I kept you a dirty secret for years and you're no better!"

"He's your father!"

"And he was your lover, Zayn! You spoke to him often and you've never even mentioned me!"

"We're not having this discussion. Good bye."

"Walk out that door and you better never come back."

Zayn's grip on the doorknob ceased, and when he turned back to Niall, the blond ignored the way he shot him a look of disbelief. "What?" Zayn whispered, didn't know if Niall even heard him.

"You heard me," he spoke evenly. "I'm tired, Zayn. I'm so tired and worn out from everything. I can't do this anymore, _I can't_."

"Niall, what are you saying?"

"Let me be clear with you, Zayn. We're done. We're over. It's over. From this moment on,--"

"You don't mean that. Shut up, _you don't mean that_ \--"

"I meant everything I just said!"

"No," Zayn laughed, but his face was hurt as he made his way over to Niall. "No. No, please, baby. Don't say that. I'm sorry, I am."

"Just go."

"You're having a hard time, I'm so fucking selfish. We'll get through this, okay? Remember, _only you_? Remember _f_ \--"

"There is no _only you_!" he spat, because if there was a chance that Zayn would leave him alone for good, he needed to be brutal. He needed to be vicious. No matter how much his throat threatened to shut him up. "There's no _forever_ , Zayn. There never was."

If Zayn looked hurt before, he looked crazy now, verging on desperate.

"Niall, you don't mean that! I love you and you love me, all right? Look, I'll stay. I'll stay and we'll work something out." He was closing the door and setting his bags away, looking into his pockets for something. In another world, some unknown parallel life, Niall would take back what he said, would hug Zayn and tell him his mind just slipped, that he couldn't leave Zayn.

But it was them, in this expensive suite, and shards of broken glass and words were littered between them. And in some other alternative universe Niall could be the man Zayn thought he loved all these years. Niall could put his feelings aside, not think about his fucked up family for a moment, and just be with Zayn, be there for Zayn, be everything he needed to be.

But it was them, and the words were processing in Zayn's mind.

"Niall? Are you breaking up with me right now?"

 _Don't let me go_ , Niall thought. _Just tell me I'm fucking insane and please don't let me go_.

"I'm staying here," he said, and more than one message was heard.

He didn't know when he came into focus again. But when he did, it was dark. Zayn's wasn't there, and neither were his belongings.

It was a Monday, and everything hit rock bottom.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so, this is the end...

There's an anonymous donation the next day, enough to pay Katie a few extra years of a healthy life. It's temporary, but everyone is celebrating the day Katie's able to sluggishly walk inside her house door. They're all cheering, and everyone's in it; but Niall's hunched on the closed toilet lid, bringing his face to his knees.

He doesn't know why he's trying to muffle his sobs; the joyous cries from beneath him are deafening.

*

While Niall was in Ireland, Zayn didn't _wholly_ pay mind to the house. It was more an alternative because after his bottle-blonde boyfriend came back, they were going to travel for a year. They were going to go everywhere and he was going to take Niall to see all his favorite bands; they were going to drive all over America and follow tour buses and pick out cheesy souvenirs to mail back to their loved ones.

Zayn was going to buy him a home in Ireland because if he had to name one thing the blond loved more than him he wouldn't hesitate to answer his country. He loved Ireland the way men loved sex and women loved gossip. It was beautiful to watch, the times Niall expressed his devotion to his Home. He was going to buy him a house so Niall could stay close to his family. He was going to let him pick it but Niall ended them.

So there wasn't any reason to hold on to these plans.

Zayn never really paid a lot of mind to his house because he was so preoccupied with _Niall Niall Niall_ there wasn't time to step back and think of praticalities.

But now he was officially gone, and Zayn realized there was too much food. The milk went bad before he knew it, and he bought a half gallon to accomodate, then stopped buying the dairy product because he was never really a fan of it, anyway; it was Niall who wasted a gallon a day on cereal.

There wasn't anyone kicking him in his sleep. He was used to waking up every few hours from a physical jolt on his shoulder or by his knee, and he'd come into focus to see Niall snuggling more into his chest, tucking cold toes under his tan ankle and softly snoring towards Zayn's abdomen. But he went to bed at night, and woke up in the morning, the sunlight dancing on the floor and birds chirping by his window; no in between.

There wasn't any smell of blonde dye every few months. He was used to laying in bed and slowly smelling the strong pungent odor of death wafting in through the open bathroom door by his right, Niall in it singing Justin Bieber's _One Time_  to the sway of his hips. Now Zayn's sink forever stayed clean, no more scattered splotches of the nostalgic coloring liquid.

He'd wake up, or come back from a run, and as he made his way to his room for a shower, there weren't any clothes strewn around. The floor stayed clean, stayed spotless with no crumbled up jersey by the window or stretched sweatpants by the bathroom door. His clothes stayed folded and they stayed there until he touched them. Nothing was misplaced, nothing was lost nor seeked. Everything stayed as is. And though he craved order for so long it was too much. This was all too much.

He sketched alone. He dirtied his fingers with pastels by himself and there wasn't another being breathing behind him as they looked over his shoulder, as they stayed silent and gaped in awe because they would never be able to draw something so magnificent, as they'd say. There was no one showering him in unasked praise. And he wasn't dependent on it. He never asked for it and he didn't imply he wanted it. But it was nice, you know. The striking and sometimes intense recognition he'd receive from his baby. From his ex. It was nice to be appreciated for something he loved doing; something he spent most of his teenage freetime doing in the spare hours between working and sleeping. It was nice, it was really nice. But he hadn't gotten used to it. He hadn't gotten used to not hearing the full lilt of the Celtic tongue behind him. Hadn't gotten used to not feeling his pale chest slam against his shoulder blades as he leaned in for a clumsy closer look. But now he had no choice but to get used to it.

His laugh wasn't heard anymore. And maybe that was the most to get used to. That loud bubbly noise wasn't drifting through the room, wasn't waking him up on a late weekend morning. It wasn't heard as they laughed at the same _Madasgascar_ movie for the fifth time. It wasn't breaching the stilled silence after a character died horribly in the new cinema thriller film, causing the surrounding people to look at him warily. He didn't hear it when he said jokes in class. And in that perplexed moment he stood there confused, unable to shake the uneasy feeling away and continue the lesson. But then it would make sense when his unfocused eyes passed by the seat in the back that was hosted by someone else. Then he would give a tiny nod to no one in particular, continuing his lesson on Art Theory as the class shuffled back into normalcy.

There was a day, a late day after he and Harry went out and had drinks between them, that he got home and slightly panicked. He dropped his bag, forgot to close the door as he breathed roughly and couldn't look away because he was supposed to be here by now. His baby was supposed to be _here_. But then he would realize that oh, yeah. Niall's training shoes hadn't been by the door for months. His ex hadn't left his dirty sneakers there in a long time. His ex didn't live with him anymore.

Soon, gradually, as the nights rolled longer and activities failed to keep him entertained, he began thinking. It was like all this space in his mind suddenly emptied and was waiting for new ideas to fill in the crevices and the gaps because he started contemplating. He started thinking that maybe, just maybe, Niall had this planned all along. Maybe he always knew that they were going to break up. It made sense to Zayn. Niall didn't take the signed guitar with him, even after Zayn persisted for almost a whole hour. The clothes Zayn deliberately bought for the blond stayed in the drawers, forever squished in rolled-up balls with wrinkles. Zayn never went through those drawers and he didn't think he would anytime soon. He didn't take Zayn's signature black jacket, the one Niall never failed to express just how fucking _sexy_ he looked in it. He didn't take the small car Zayn bought for just _him_. And it was reasonable, Zayn realized, but it didn't stop him from pressuring the blond into taking it; he willingly let Niall keep it and still, he just, wouldn't. Maybe Niall had it planned all along that it was temporary. Maybe Zayn's early thoughts, when they first started, about Niall being young and only wanting a fling was true. Maybe, just maybe, all of this was making sense. Because when there was nothing else to occupy him, this was so believable.

Zayn debated on getting rid of his latest tattoo. And he never thought of getting rid of one before. Even when he got one of his girlfriend during his early twenties, when he thought with a cynical mind that what they had was the best it was going to get, he didn't remove it; just added to obscure the details and colored a black bar over her inked eyes.

There was a shamrock tattoo on his forearm. It was tucked between the inked _6_ and _ZAP_ near his wrist and it was really small. He drew it himself, with four petals to signify their fourth year anniversary. He got it after Niall left, didn't bother even telling him because he was sure Niall wouldn't want to hear about his day; not when he spent half his time in a hospital and the other half fixed on his late nephew.

It was just a flimsy idea he got one night Harry, Liam, and he lounged on his balcony. The air was foggy and the drinks were cold, warm when it hit their stomachs. And under his unfocused faze, he thought the piece of permanence would mean something, would keep _them_ permanent. It was a naïve idea that didn't go away the next morning he sketched it out. And if he was honest with himself it might have planted its seed even more in his brain at the tattoo parlor, right as the buzzing needle broke the first layer of skin.

But now he looked down at it and really _really_ thought of getting rid of it. It was extremely stupid amongst his other elaborate pictures and it was sort of out of place. The worst part was there was no going around it. It was in his vision all the time.

As he planned out his latest drawing, the shaded plant burned in his peripheral when he leaned down to view his latest portrait, trying to see a sharp line better. It was practically begging for attention when he smoked on the way to work, the green corners catching the slanting sunlight as his forearm rested out the window. And it was all he saw when he had to constantly text his new supervisors and workers of a last customer's complaint.

He wasn't naïve, not at all. But Niall made him believe that there _was_ love; the actual real kind he only witnessed between his parents. And look where they ended up. Niall made him think that maybe, just maybe the world was a tad bit brighter when you loved someone casting so much brilliance everywhere he went. And he definitely taught him when that _one_ person suddenly came into your life there was no such thing as limitations; no such thing as meeting halfway, only giving what you received, playing hard to get.

That didn't exist at all when he fell in love. It was only giving his everything and making that person his number one priority. Making sure they had what they needed and working at getting what they wanted. Being satisfied with what they gave and being there for them, _only_ them when they needed it.

But Niall also taught him that despite everything you can still _lose_ everything.

Zayn came to the conclusion he didn't learn anything at all.

*

If Niall was in any state of sanity, he might have congratulated--rewarded, even-- himself for how long he went without telling anyone.

The month before he confirmed, he would answer, "He's fine," or "Yeah, we're good," whenever his mother or Greg asked about him. He didn't answer Louis' calls so there was no way of speaking to him and he had a hunch that he knew anyway.

He almost broke the day he went back to work after Zayn left. He was just walking into the cozy building, thinking he was fired and was going to beg for his job back, planning to empathetically explain _why_ he suddenly stopped, when Michael looked up at him perplexed, current-azure hair shifting with his head tilt.

"You weren't supposed to come in until next week," he greeted before rushing over to hug Niall tightly. "Don't even sweat it, man. I heard everything. I'm so sorry, Ni."

"How did you hear?" he asked, accepting the familiar hug and holding on just a few seconds longer before Mike moved away, hands on Niall's shoulders.

"Zayn called. Explained everything to Paul and I through the phone."

"Zayn?" he responded, not bothering to clear his blocked throat of churning emotions.

"Yeah. He like." He shrugged. "Persuaded Higgins to give you time off and everything. He was real smooth, mate. A keeper."

 _We're not together_ , Niall thought, wanted to say. _I didn't know this and I broke his heart._ But instead he shrugged also, hoped his mouth formed into a thankful smile.

"Yeah, he is a keeper."

He was at his mother's house, laughing at Katie's joke about her finally having a natural crewcut, when Bob brought it up.

Niall was surprised no one picked up on their unproclaimed avoidance, how Niall went when his father disappeared, how one went left when the other went right. But it was Katie's birthday, a day they didn't expect to celebrate.

"Where's your boytoy?" he asked, not even looking at Niall.

Niall didn't look at him either, looked down at his plate of roast that was getting cold, but he knew it was spoken to him.

"At his house," he answered casually, not _home_ , pushing the food away and getting up to retrieve a drink from the cooler. They weren't a lot of people present; just a few of Katie's friends, a cousin, and Niall and his parents. Greg and Denise weren't in any shape to visit. And Niall found it a bit selfish but _he_ didn't lose a child of his own; he didn't experience their brand of misery.

There weren't a lot of people, which was why everyone heard their discussion, and the only noise was the grainy music coming from the laptop plugged in by the television.

Which was why Maura immediately shushed Bob, or tried to. It didn't work because he suddenly turned around and told her to shut the fuck up. But as he glared at her and Niall was ready to kick him out of his _mother's_ house, clarity striked his father then. And he turned to Niall with disbelief slapped across his face.

"So she knows? She knows you like it up the arse, then?"

"Everyone knows, Bob!" Niall screamed just loud enough that it carried for a few more seconds. "Everyone, okay? Did you honestly think I'd tell you after--"

"I'm your father!"

"You haven't been around for years!" He laughed at that apparent yet unbelievable fact. Bob wasn't around for years, didn't speak to him in years, and he suddenly expected Niall to obey him? He expected Niall to actually _fear_ him? "You didn't look for me for years, Bob! Do you expect me to respect you as a father?" he continued, wishing for a moment he could curse. But this was his mother's house.

And his mother was currently standing aside, hand pressed to her mouth as uncertainty reflected in her eyes.

Which was why Niall grabbed his--Zayn's--jacket from the chair and walked away, kissing Maura goodbye and affectionately tapping Katie's cheek, saying Happy Birthday and that he'll stop by later. _Sorry for that, Kitty Kat. Really didn't expect this, I'll make it up to you_ , he whispered when he was close enough.

"We're not done! Who the fuck do you think you are walking away like that, huh?" Bobby spat, roughly grabbing Niall's sleeve to turn him around. And for a second Niall _was_ a little intimidated, a bit uncoordinated and flushed because Bob never put his hands on him, never initiated _physical_ discipline. And the blond blinked as his father continued to push him, lashing vulgar comments and calling him names he hadn't heard since he was eleven. But when he spoke about Zayn, something about keeping his filthy hands _away_ and threatening of pulling a restraining order if he showed his face again, Niall snapped.

"We're not together!" he cried, pushing with all his might, all the defeated strength he had. "Are you happy? We broke up! We broke up the day you found out. We haven't spoken since!" He didn't stop, a shove accompanying each remark. Niall was crying, tears making icy trails down his face as he shoved a little bit forceful at one point.

"He was the best thing to happen to me! He was everything and I let him go that day! Are you happy?" Bob was pushed against a car, a dark sky overhead, bitter wind biting bare skin. Niall turned around and huffed, was going to leave before he added, "He's done more for me than you _ever_ fucking did and he's gone! He's gone and I allowed it."

Bob didn't say anything, just tried to breathe evenly, tried to close his eyes but his body was locked, experiencing a side of Niall no one's _ever_ experienced.

"Are you happy, _dad_?" he stressed, not bothering to wipe his face. "Is this what you wanted to hear? That I'm miserable? That the one constant thing in my life, the only normal part of my _fucked_ up life is gone?" he screeched. Bob couldn't speak, was struggling to breathe.

"Don't you dare be quiet now! You fucking answer me!" Niall cried, sobbed, shook with tremors and felt close to passing out from his headache. "We're done! Zayn and I are over. And I did it, okay? _I_ did." A few neighbors came out, wondering what the screams and cries were about. "But you're proud of me, right, dad? Isn't this what you wanted to hear?"

He didn't answer, and Niall looked up to see his family by their opened door. His mother never looked so hurt; and Niall really felt like killing himself for that.

It was the first time he felt suicidal.

 

  
You really don't know what it's like to lose a loved one _until_ you lose them.

And Niall's heard that his whole life, heard it so much it was ingrained into his mind next to daily activities and practical manners.

But it was so much, so much different when it happened to you.

The local news wasn't viewed the same anymore. How when they reported highway accidents and homes being burned down, it struck something inside of him. Made him tense because those were _lives_ lost, lives stolen from before their eyes and it wasn't even seen; they died not knowing that would be the last day they'd wake up, the last day they'd eat a meal and kiss their families before they continued their schedule. And _that_ stole Niall's breath away.

The families. The loved ones left to deal with the absence, an absence they weren't prepared for; that was so fucked up, so fucked up to believe. They'd have to carry on without speaking to them. Without the feel of their skin, the timbre of their voice, without ever seeing them open their eyes again.

They were _gone_. And the family had to plan a funeral, had to schedule a date to bury their spouse, their sibling, their child. Their nephew.

Niall was the one who picked out Theo's burial outfit. A simple blue button-up with khaki pants. He wore the pair of sneakers Niall bought him, a pair he himself had.

And he was so beautiful. So excruciatingly beautiful in the cream casket.

Niall thought about that day a lot. How the same boy, the same young boy he fell in love with everyday, the baby he remembered spending time with just the week prior, was gone. Just the body of him left. It was crazy, and it blew his mind away. Made him reevalaute what he knew and made him unconsciously overthink everything.

He overthought about death a lot. How it must feel the second you closed your eyes for the last time. The last breath before your brain just stopped. The last thing you saw before your heart collapsed. He overthought about _his_ death. Would it be from a car accident on his way to visit the dentist, just for a regular checkup. Tripping down the steps and landing on a certain irreparable side of your head. Going to bed with plans and never waking up.

It made him think of Zayn's death a lot, too. And that. That scared the fucking shit out of him.

It was months since he last saw him, last spoken to him and witnessed him _alive_. And that could all change in an instant. An instant that Niall might not witness.

"I hope you're doing good," he said into the voicemail, the third time he called and hadn't gotten a reply. That hurt more than anything. He wholly deserved it, but if he knew he would feel this way as a result, he wouldn't even thinking of behaving the way he did. "I know I said that already, so. Just wanted to say it again. Bye."

That was weeks ago, and he still hadn't heard a reply. And as he locked the bathroom door of the club he was in, muting the music a notch and leaning against the stained, damp wall, he called again.

"I know you get my calls!" he slurred, held onto the dirty sink for support. "You. You call Louis. Called Katie. And I don't hear you!" There was someone knocking on the door, like an open palm banging against the wooden surface repeatedly. "I love you, Zayn. I miss you so much and if you die right now I won't see you. Won't be there and I _want_ to. I want to so, so bad."

He didn't get a response, didn't even know he sent a voicemail in the first place until Michael confronted him.

Niall had a headache the next morning, arrived to work in pain because the night before was Michael's birthday and they celebrated it at a party.

He was speaking through his earphones, getting the man in the drive thru's order when he approached him, hair shining platinum white.

"Dude, you're all right?" Michael asked, letting all his worry and care show. Niall noticed immediately, the way he hovered closer than usual.

"Yeah? I'm fine, why?" he answered/asked in return, squirting chocolate syrup in the iced beverage. Michael licked his lips, nodded and turned to attend the next customer. When the morning rush died and there was nothing to do but mop and wipe tables till noon, he came again, pressed his hands right under his armpits and hunched in thought.

"What happened to Zayn and you?" he asked without preamble. Niall dropped the donut in his hand, cursed mentally as he threw it away.

"What? Nothing happened at all, I'm not sure--"

"I heard you in the bathroom last night, at the party? I was trying to unlock the door, was gonna tell you we were leaving, but. I heard you talking to _someone_ and." He looked away, furrowed his eyebrows as he tried to form what he wanted to say. "He doesn't answer your calls? And you're going to tell me it's nothing?"

"How do you know about that? I only call when I'm alone. I didn't call--"

"You were drunk last night, that's understandable. S'maybe why you don't remember, I get it. But you couldn't tell me?"

"There's nothing to tell. You asked what happened and nothing did. We're not together anymore, you learned that part. So nothing's really happening."

"You're hurting," Michael confessed without thought, like he was just realizing this. Niall looked at him, then. He didn't like what he saw, how sympathy rolled heavily down Michael's features. "You're hurting so bad and I didn't even know."

"I didn't want anyone to know, okay?" Niall smiled, spoke a bit too loudly. "I'm twenty-two. I'm a big boy, I can pull my own pants up. I'm not a teenager, I'm not gonna cry in public or anything. So stop."

Michael wore no expression, just stared back.

"You came out of the bathroom crying, Niall. I don't know about _you_ but if I see my friend as distraught as you were I'd do something to help them."

Niall couldn't, couldn't remember what he was talking about, couldn't cry in front of him, couldn't bring himself to speak without feeling dread sink its way down his skin.

"Michael, that's not. That's not what I meant." There was a stain on the counter in front of him, and he turned to it, blinking to clear his vision. "I don't, like. Fuck, I'm sorry for that. I didn't want. You shouldn't've had to see that. I'm fine," he rambled. "I'm okay. Things are shitty. And then. Not everything's bad. Like, don't worry about--"

"About you, all right. But I've known you since Spring. It's almost the end of the year now. And I've never seen you like that. Didn't even think that was possible."

"I broke up with him," Niall replied, standing up straight as he processed the words in his head, at how out of place they seemed. "I broke up with him, Louis tells me I fucking destroyed him, and I want him back."

"That's reasonable, you love him. You were going through a shitty time in your life."

"The thing is there's a part of me that still thinks we're together, because it feels so weird saying I'm single, that I'm _not_ with Zayn, you know?" he blurted. Michael didn't have the heart to stop him. "Then there's another part of me that thinks we're gonna get back together, thinks we're gonna requite or some shit because come _on_ , it's Zayn and I. It's ZaynandNiall and it's _always_ been us two. He was it. _Is_ it." He bit his lip, rubbed his arm and went to line the pastries, something to do with his hands. "But all of me, including those little bits knows that's not gonna happen," he laughed. "We're not. We're not going to see each other again. I'm not ever going to see him in the morning--"

"You don't know that."

"Oh, but I do. Come on, Mike. I showed you pictures of him, he's completely gorgeous. He's. He's _perfect_ and I'm sure, whatever the fuck he's doing, wherever he is, someone's trying to get his attention, trying to take him out and Zayn deserves that, he does."

"I'm sure he does, but--"

"And he has the whole world in his hands. He has a job he loves and a devoted family and friends and he has it all."

"What are you saying?"

"He's going to get better soon, he's probably better now. But he's it for me. And that's not going to change."

"So why did you break up with him?"

That was the million-dollar question, one that Niall had many answers to. They didn't matter anymore.

 

  
The next summer, a year after Theo was buried.

That was how Niall said it: A few weeks after he was buried; a month since he died; a year since we buried him. He didn't want to use the other way, didn't want to say _since he left; before we stopped_ ; _after I broke up with him._

It was a year, and as he sat in front of the tombstone, placing the flowers and little Hot Wheelz car carefully beside it, he couldn't help but realize how fast the year went. How it felt like just yesterday Theo was teaching him the minerals found in mines. Just a week ago Zayn was waking him up with fingers tickling the space above his hip.

And

And he couldn't think that way. Not after so long. Not when it only worsened his load.

He thought he must've been really shitty in a past life, imagined he was a selfish, arrogant jerk who didn't care for anyone. Or maybe he was one of the men who passed the poor guy before the Samaritan came along. All he knew was that karma worked. Karma was real and utterly and unquestionably a bitch.

It was proven and potent and very, very present. Very, very _there_.

And Zayn _hadn't_ been _there_ in a year.

And Niall couldn't remember a time he wasn't; didn't allow himself to, either.

 

Niall liked to imagine how Theo and Zayn's introduction would've been. He liked to think that he would be in the middle and they'd instantly love each other. He liked to imagine the two greatest parts of his world were soon each other's favorite, too. He liked to believe that they would go to the cinema together and they'd see the movie Zayn and Theo wanted because they were into the same shit and two beats one.

He liked to think on nights Theo had a nightmare he'd go to Zayn because he trusted him just as much as his uncle. He liked to think he'd have days where he'd feel jealous with how close they were and Zayn and Theo would make it up to him with a cooked meal and strong words of reassurance that he wasn't replaced. _You're still my Uncle Niall,_ Theo'd roll his eyes, hugging Niall's thigh in the process. _You're still my only baby_ , Zayn'd coo lowly in his ear, only because Theo couldn't hear the rest of his statement.

And most of all he loved to imagine them always being present, always being constant in his life and there when he needed them because no one had ever affected him with so much drastic love before.

And it was something that he lost everything in less than a month.

 

Autumn rolled in quietly, didn't make its presence noticed until the middle of it when Niall bumps into her.

He's walking out of the grocery store with a bag when she collided with him, causing her purse and belongings to scatter across the floor. Niall immediately kneeled to pick up the loose compact mirror, placing it atop the worn novel and collecting the stray pens as he stood up with her putting the rest in her bag.

"Shit. Sorry, ma'am. That was all my fault," he rushed, smiling and handing her the rest. She just looked at him, pursed her soft red mouth and gave a perplexed gaze.

"Do I know you? You look familiar," she asked, furrowing her golden eyebrows and Niall really didn't remember her.

"Sorry," he shrugged, actually really sorry he couldn't help. "Don't think you do." It was while she opened her mouth to respond that Calum parked in front of them.

"Niall, we gotta go. I told Luke we'd be there in five minutes."

"Niall!" she suddenly beamed, snapping her fingers as it dawned on her. "I remember now! You're the one I ate ice cream with sometime last year!"

Niall only smiled alarmingly, tried not to laugh out of discomfort because he ate ice cream a lot of times sometime last year.

"Sorry. Sorry, sorry, sorry. That came out creepier than I thought. Not that it was creepy in my head, it _wasn't_. Let me rephrase that," she stammered, laughed nervously and put a hand on her forehead as he blushed furiously, shaking her head. She looked up calmly, then. "Hi. One night last year I asked if I could've sit with you to ice cream at _Karl's Shop_? There weren't any other seats and you said yeah."

"Okay, yeah!" Niall smiled, recalling a girl with golden hair wearing a mint jumper. "Yeah, I remember now."

"You were with your nephew," she continued, unaware what she was doing. Her smile grew bigger with the familiarity. "He was talking about you and you told him--"

Calum beeped the horn, and Niall thanked the heavens for the distraction.

"Yeah. Um. I gotta go. But it was nice seeing you...?"

"Harley. My name is Harley."

"Harley," he nodded, gesturing towards the impatient boy in the car. She only laughed and brushed him away, letting him leave.  
"Who's that? She's hot," Calum said when he got in the car, grabbing the bag from him and putting it behind them.

"Watch it. Or I'll tell Luke. And her name's Harley, met her once last year."

"You should invite her to the party tonight."

"No way, I don't even know her," he laughed, a question mixed with the sound at Calum's odd ideas.

"Okay? She's hot and you're going to be lonely tonight. Luke and I are, well. You know. Ashton's bringing some girl and Michael's with that Asian chick."

"What if I want to be alone?"

"Everyone wants to be alone sometimes. No one wants to be lonely."

"Shut up and go, I thought Luke was waiting for us."

"You sure you don't want to invite her? Look, she's getting in her car."

"I'm sure," Niall whispered, watching through the side mirror as she hopped into the truck that was huge for her small frame. "Yeah, let's go see Luke."

 

  
She was at the party, with Niall. Because right before Calum left the parking lot he ran out of the car and was able to stop her right before she drove away. And she agreed almost instantaneously when Niall asked, flushing at her forwardness before shrugging, acting aloof and _yeah, sure, I'll be ready._

She was so fucking beautiful, so stunning and in another time Niall could've appreciate her like she deserved. She wore a cream dress, something that fit like a second skin and hugged her curves. Nude heels and gold jewelry, a dangling golden hair piece that settled on the middle of her forehead.

She was being eyed and ignoring men's remarks and addressing those who addressed her respectfully. She stuck to Niall's side and showered him with attention and even bashfully asked him to dance. Niall knew what was happening.

He knew what he was doing and he knew Harley was implying many things with her intense stares and firm holds on his waist or elbow. He wasn't ready for it, but. But something about Harley's unregarded persona and gleeful charisma made him think _why not?_ She was pretty and bold and way more nicer than he thought possible. She was clever when Calum tried to find her weak spot with questions and she challenged Michael to a staring contest; in which she won. She was easy to ask if she was enjoying herself; he didn't feel the weight of paranoia if she would've answered no because she seemed carefree about it. Like if the party wasn't that grand, at least it gave her a reason to wear a pretty dress. ( _Well you look really pretty in it_ , Niall unconsciously and amicably responded. And that gave her the courage to lean in and _dance with me?_ )

And it was while he kept an appropriate distance from her and smiled when she smiled that he noticed her eyes. They were light brown, speckled with gold. They were hazel and

And

Niall kissed her suddenly, closed his eyes tightly to block his mind of images.

 

  
He didn't question it, didn't sit long enough to think it over. It just happened. And he let it happen because that was how he'd go with it, before. Before he started uni he'd let whatever happen just _happen_. And he wasn't the same boy as before but he's not going to let that change.

So when they exchanged numbers with a promise of a coffee date, he let it be. When the coffee date turned into another date, at a really expenise restaurant, he shrugged it off. When she called him pet names and spent time at his place, he didn't think of it.

But he couldn't just let that brush by.  
They're eating a meal she cooked. And as they ate in the living room that's just his because Greg and Denise moved out a month after the burial, she leaned into him and mindlessly asked, "Where's your nephew?"

The fork in Niall's hand slipped, and it's a mess of tomato sauce and ziti pasta all over his shirt.

"Um," he started, thought it dumb if he asked what she said since she was only going to repeat herself.

"Babe, you're all right? You dirtied a bit of the rug," she chuckled, getting up to retrieve a rag as _Walk The Line_ continued to play on the television. It was while she finished cleaning the floor and moved to his shirt that she said, "So, yeah. I haven't seen your nephew since last year."

 _I haven't seen my nephew since last year_ , he thought, closed his eyes and tried to breathe normally.

"Baby? What's wrong?" A hand was placed across his chest, her small hand framing one breast, and. And another hand fit better than hers. "Your heart's beating fast."

"Yeah. Yeah, I know. My nephew, uh," he started. "He's, um..." He exhaled through his nostrils.

"He's...?" she continued, biting the corner of her natural red lips. "Well, what's his name? Start with that."

"His name was Theo," he answered, looked everywhere but at her. She was seated over his lap, legs bracketing his hips and this was all wrong.

"Theo, cute. That's-- Wait..." she trailed, bringing a hand to pick up his chin, making him look at her. "When you say was, that's not. You don't mean--"

Niall only nodded quickly, blinked away before tears brimmed his eyes.

"Yeah, he's. He was, you know. Like--"

"Shh," she whispered, hugged him until he buried his face in her hair and shuddered a breath since he was shaking. "I'm sorry, Niall. I'm so, so sorry." Normally that'd piss him the fuck off because what was she apologizing for? She didn't do shit. And also, what the fuck was her apology going to do? It wasn't going to bring him back, wasn't going to lessen the pain or make something a little brighter. It was so fucking annoying already but Niall kept in mind not everyone lost a loved one; not everyone knew the bitter, tragic feeling. But then she said, "I know my apology is shit. I know what I'm saying isn't helping but I just want you to know I'm here, okay?"

And that made him feel a little bit better, like maybe she understood. Which was why he cried, cried sober for the first time in so long with someone new for the first time.

She was perfect, but not for him. She was wrong, small angles and sharp, tiny features and she didn't fit with Niall. Maybe she knew that. But she wasn't incompetent, either.

She was valid, and right now she was very needed.

Niall would take what he got.

 

  
"So you're dating again?" Louis asked; it was coming, Niall knew. It was present when they met at Niall's job and it lingered when he sat down for a break.

They talked about everything, how Louis visited Zayn a few weeks back and spoke to Harry for the first time since his departure. They talked about Christmas just two weeks away and joked about Louis wanting the world for his birthday. They even slightly touched the topic of Theo, Niall managing to not space out or flinch from memories. He didn't know if it was a good thing or not.

"Um...." Niall prolonged, biting one corner of his mouth. "What makes you say that?"

"I'm not going to judge you or anything," Louis huffed with a chuckle, a bit perplexed. "Mate, you're my best friend. That hasn't changed, like. You'll still tell me, right?"

"'Course," he stressed, curving his eyebrows down as he mulled over his answer. "I'm not," he started. "I'm not _dating_. It's-- Like. --I don't even know what to call it. She just comes around often and we spend time. She's more in it than me, unfortunately," he shrugged, sorrow in the curve of his mouth.

"She?"

"Well. Yeah," he laughed. "What'd you expect?"

"Nothing, I didn't mean to assume." Louis shook his head, looked down at the soda bottle in front of him. "I just thought, after... After Zayn, you'd be into men? I don't know you just seemed happy."

"I was happy," Niall whispered, not bothering to look away or blanket the hurt in his words. "Was never so happy in my life, Louis. But it was only Zayn. It was _always_ Zayn, that never changed."

Louis nodded in response after a bit, pushed hair off his forehead and sighed deeply.

"It's all shit, isn't it?" he chuckled, but there wasn't anything amusing.

Niall just shrugged again after a moment, laughed once also because everything was so shitty it _was_ funny; just bordering between comedic and tragic you had to laugh.

"Aren't you dating, too?" Niall smirked, tapping Louis' elbow lightly. "Some bloke named Andy? Eddie?"

"Aiden. Yeah, he's great," he smiled, and there was color in his cheeks that wasn't there a moment ago.

"How long have you've been together?"

"About three months?"

"And I find out now!"

"Relax," Louis laughed, bringing up hands in surrender. "I wanted to tell you when I first _met_ him but didn't want to make a big deal out of nothing. Still don't wanna make a big deal."

"But this _is_ big! You haven't dated since Harry, man. Kudos to you," he cheered, slapping Louis' arm gleefully. Louis shrugged, smirking as he reddened brighter. "Does Harry know?" Niall continued, dropping his tone.

Louis suddenly laughed, laughed loudly and threw his head back in the process.

"He does, mate! You should've seen him. He was so _jealous_ ," he beamed, no malice behind his words; just amusement. "Ni, you had to be there." He sat back, spread his hands as he looked at Niall seriously. "So, there I was, yeah? Minding my own business with Zayn, arguing about who was sexier: Natalie Portman or Megan Fox. Obviously, my baby Portman won," he rolled his eyes. "But then Zayn laughed..."

Niall suddenly pictured it, his inaudible laugh, the way his face scrunched up so beautifully it literally made Niall's lungs stuck for a moment; literally. There was nothing greater, nothing compared to the white smile in view with his pink tongue pressed behind them.

"...something about _never shagging her_ , so me, being the faithful lad I am," Louis spoke, placing a serious hand over his chest, "obviously agreed, like duh, I'm not a _cheater_ ," he scoffed. Niall chuckled, enjoying his personal storyteller.

"You take forever to tell a story, Jesus, never mind," he joked.

"Shut up," Louis deadpanned, immediately diving into the tale again. "So yeah, then I said that outloud, but I forgot Harry was there," _you did not forget_ , Niall thought, "and he's all _you're in a relationship?_ " he voiced, reaching the climax, waiting for Niall to respond.

"Okay, and?"

"Ugh, you're no fun at this, why do I even bother."

"I am so fun, I'm currently shaking in my seat. Not really, but _finish_. I really wanna know what happened."

Louis smiled, appreciating his best friend's efforts. "Well, after that, I said yeah, because. Because I _am_. Not gonna lie, have no reason to lie," he whispered, bringing a fingernail to his mouth as he gazed at the door. "It got a bit awkward, wouldn't look me in the eye whenever I addressed him, but," he shrugged, licked his lips. "His loss."

"Sounds like he still loves you."

Louis shrugged again, more purposefully this time. "Like I said, his loss."

"Do you?" Niall asked quietly, hoping his boss didn't appear soon because break ended five minutes ago and Michael and Ashton seemed to handle the store well enough. "Do you, you know. Love him, still?"

A thick hair lock fell across Louis' forehead, and he deliberately and slowly pushed it back in place, twirled the green bottle cap in his hand as his jaw moved side to side momentarily.

"Aiden's great. I'm really happy with him and nothing's jeopardizing what we have," he said in answer, pulling his coat on because even _he_ knew Niall had to get to work like, two minutes ago. "I don't want to bring anything between us," he finished, standing up.

Niall rose with him, suddenly hating his job because he didn't want to stop talking; suddenly hating his degree because he went to school for five years for shit. Wasted five years in a place that didn't benefit him at all besides leaving lurking nostalgic memories that were more poignant than anything else.

"Say hi for me when you see them again, yeah?" He pulled Louis into a hug, didn't let go for longer than necessary, but Louis was holding on just as tightly.

"I'll send Harry your love," he spoke into Niall's shoulder. He was still so small.

"And," Niall swallowed, pulling away. "And him. Zayn, too."

Louis' face curved into confusion, and he bit his lip nervously.

"Well, I'll just text him, then."

"No." Niall didn't want that. "No, don't text him. Tell him. When you see, please tell him. Just," he sighed, rubbed a hand through his hair; it was completely brown now, no trace of blonde at all. "I haven't heard anything from him since, and. Can you just please tell me what he looked like, when you tell him? Fuck," he shook his head," I sound so childish and needy, I know--"

"He moved."

Niall continued to ramble, then when the words registered clearly for the third time did he respond, snapped his neck in Louis' direction and gaped, " _What?_ "

Louis huffed, a grim smile as he rubbed his forehead.

"This is gonna be a long one," he whispered to himself, regretting voicing such a confession at a wrong time. "Yeah, Ni. He moved. Moved last month."

"Where?" Niall whispered, and he was so cold. Like the added distance between him and Zayn instantly froze him, cocooned him in a layer of ice that wasn't tangible, wasn't able to melt off.

"The States," Louis answered just as quietly, shrugging apologetically like he was to blame. "There was nothing for him there, Niall. You know that."

"Bullshit!" Niall almost screamed, unable to voice anything more coherent for a moment because Zayn moved across the sea. He moved across a fucking huge body of water, somewhere Niall's never been. For the past month Niall believed he was mere hours away, just a three-hour flight away and Niall never felt so abandoned in his life. "That's bullshit and you know it, Louis! His family--"

"Don't be so dense, Niall. You're really going to use that card? His _family_? You're not this pathetic," he spat.

"The fuck is that supposed to mean?"

"Niall," he said gently. "Look. I know you've changed after Theo left," he voiced carefully, not wanting to puncture a nerve since they were doing so good. "But. You can't be selfish, bud."

"Louis, what are you talking about?" he whimpered, almost sobbed because it hit him with too much clarity then that Zayn moved to America, to a whole other continent on the other side of the world.

But then Louis looked struck with clarity also, as his face fell of emotion and his hands laid immobile by his sides.

"You mean he didn't..." he started, then shook his head once. "He surely told you, right? Niall, you're joking."

"Tell me what? Louis, tell me what, what are you talking about, just _tell me_."

"His father disappeared," he whispered, and Niall knew the look on Louis' face was hopeful, like maybe Niall just needed a reminder to remember this piece of information. Information that he was never told.

"What the fuck do you mean?" All he pictured was Yaser packing his bags when Trisha was asleep, leaving a note on the cherry wood dining table Niall's seen twice before opening the door and quietly making his escape. "You mean he just left his family?" That wasn't likely. That didn't even sit right in Niall's brain. Yaser loved his family like it was his job to, like he needed to voice his devotion to everyone at least twice a day. There were even days he called Zayn three times, one of them exchanged with Niall because Yaser even loved him, too. Well, he did.

"No," Louis laughed pathetically, shaking his head. "No, that would've been so much better, Niall. I'm so surprised he didn't tell you." He inhaled deeply, gripped Niall's gaze tightly as he frowned without thought. "His plane disappeared, Niall," he began. "This was last year. Just diappeared from the radars and no one's seen him since."

When it seemed like Niall was too frozen to respond he continued.

"Zayn was supposed to go on the business trip, actually. But...." he looked away for a moment. "You were still together, and he didn't want to focus on anything else."

"You mean..."

"Yeah," he nodded once. "So his father boarded and... never came back. Didn't you hear about the missing Malaysian flight? It was everywhere."

Niall voiced something, hoped whatever he said was coherent.

Louis sighed, "They waited months, Niall. Zayn had to take over the business last minute, and it was kind of falling apart before he even stepped in. But then... you know, Theo left. And he dropped everything to get here. Even missed Yaser's scheduled funeral," he whispered.

"Don't tell me that, Louis. Please don't say that."

"Just thought you should've known," he nodded sheepishly. "But. Yeah, he wasn't doing good there. So he moved."

"I know that."

"Don't get smart with me, Niall. I know you have your own shit to deal with but you just left him. _You left Zayn_."

"I gotta get to work, you should go," he commanded, already moving towards behind the counter.

"Now you want to stop talking? That's shit and you know it."

Michael intervened, hearing more of the conversation than necessary. "Look, I'm going to have to ask you to leave, sir," he threatened, moving his way between them.

"I'm his best friend. I don't know who the hell you are so back off."

" _Louis_ ," Niall screeched, but Louis was already leaving. He stopped at the door, looked at Niall and didn't hide the hurt in his face.

"Remember when we were kids?" he started, seeming deflated and ready to cry. "Remember how we'd always get in trouble 'cause of me? You'd always clean up after me? And you'd always say one day I'd get what's coming to me," he smiled waterly. "You said I'd get what's mine."

"Louis?" Niall asked, hoping his tone screamed how badly he wanted Louis to stop. He didn't like where this conversation was going.

"You broke Zayn, and you left me to pick up the pieces."

 

  
"And you couldn't even tell me?" he continued once the tone rang. It was the third voicemail he was leaving because it'd cut right in the middle of a sharp sentence. "You seriously couldn't tell me about your father, Zayn?" he whispered, bringing a hand over his eyes, keeping tears from falling.

"Fuck, Zayn," he cried, sliding down the bathroom wall. "Do you know how fucked up I feel? Did it not cross your mind that I would've been there for you? You were my boyfriend. You were my _everything_ ," he screamed.

"You were fucking everything to me, Zayn! You took over the business? Your father died? And you moved?" he screeched, pounding the heel of his hand against his temple repeatedly as his eyes squeezed shut.

"And I find all of this out now? When it doesn't even matter?" he whispered. Then he exploded.

"Well, fuck you! Fuck you, all right? Not like you fucking care about--" the tone beeped, signaling the completion of his message. He threw the phone towards the door, screamed as he pulled his hair. He was going crazy.

He couldn't sulk for long before a timid knock sounded, and he cursed himself for forgetting he wasn't alone.

"Yeah, come in," he sniffed, abruptly standing up and looking down at the sink, washing his hands to find something to do as he tried to hide his red eyes from view.

Harley walked in, a frown on her face and duffel bag over her shoulders.

"M'leaving now," she shrugged. "Hols with the fam, and all."

And fuck, he totally forgot this was her last day before she visited Germany to be with her family. They were going to order in and watch _Gossip Girl_ ; Niall's choice.

He closed his eyes, sighed and turned the water off. He was selfish, he was so selfish, just like Louis said. He sniffed, "Leaving already? Thought we were gonna eat first."

"Change of plans, gonna meet with friends before I go. You can stay here."

This was new. But he didn't expect anything else at the moment.

“Harley--”

“Are you seeing someone else?”

“No. M’not.”

“So you’ve just been leading me on?” There was pain in her voice, and hurt reflected in her attempted smile, trying to act like it wasn’t a big deal. Niall felt sick.

“No,” he cracked. “No, Harley, that’s not--”

“You’re stuck on your ex!” Niall couldn’t deny that. He knew she wanted him, too. But after she gave him enough time, she huffed and turned around briskly towards the door.

“Harley, please don’t leave like this.”

“You’re gay?” she spat when she turned around. “Fuck, I’m not homophobic. But you were with a guy and you expect me to believe you _weren’t_ leading me on?”

“I’m not gay! I swear to fuck, it was only him.” _It **is** him_.

“And I hear about this now?” she hissed, raising a hand in defeat before dropping it. “You should’ve told me, Niall.”

“I never lied to you,” he pleaded. “Everything I said to you was true. I just didn’t want to bring this up. You never asked so there was no point."

"There was no point," she breathed emotionlessly, turning around to view her surroundings. "There was no point, he says."

"Harley?"

"Fuck, Niall, you think that little of me?"

" _No_." That wasn't. He couldn't have her thinking that; it wasn't that at all. Maybe he didn't like her as much as she liked him. And yeah, maybe there was a minute part in his brain that wasn't ignorant towards him leading her on. But he genuinely cared for her and she unconsciously helped him at times he thought he couldn't get out of his head. "Don't you dare say that. That's not it _at all_."

"So what is it, then?" she voiced, tilting her head to the side. Niall saw unshed tears in her eyes, how they clung in fear of spilling over. "Just thought I was an easy lay? Some rebound chick?"

"Stop saying that."

"You know, I know you had shit going on, and I never wanted to intrude because if anything you'll tell me when you were ready. And I respect your privacy," she sniffed, wiping her burgundy coat sleeve over her nose, "but I will not be second choice. I will not be anyone's toy."

"Stop saying that!"

"Fuck you! I have the right to say whatever I want!"

"So that's it? You're just gonna leave like that? I'm sorry, okay? I'm sorry because I admit that was shitty of me. But I am not sorry for not telling you. And everything I said was true. You are _not_ second choice, or _anyone's_ toy. You're worth more than that and I know. _I know_."

She glared at him, ready to lash out. But a stilled moment made her close her eyes and breathe through her nose harshly. The bag stayed across her shoulders obediently, and putting on leather gloves she pushed gold bangs off her face.

"You're not ruining my holiday. I'm leaving and that's final."

 

*

There was a tradition of sorts that Zayn and Niall had on Christmas Eve. It wasn't planned, neither sought out or thought of.

It was just one night, after Harry and a drunk Louis drove home, after Liam and Danielle left to get ready to see her family the next day, after Ant and Danny (Zayn's loyal colleagues who didn't give a shit who he was dating) promised to return the following week for some intense Taboo playing, Niall and Zayn were left alone.

Their guests cleaned up after themselves and as Zayn got dressed after his shower, he found Niall laying on the floor, messy blonde head right under their customized Christmas tree.

"What're you doing?" he quirked an eyebrow, noting the boy was humming Bieber's _Baby_ under his breath. Zayn should've rolled his eyes, he really should've. But instead his perplexed smile grew bigger and he found himself next to Niall, unconsciously lifting an arm to rest under the boy's head.

Niall immediately curved into him, didn't think about acting coy or being aloof; just pushed his face into a tan chest and knocked his good knee against his, uttering a pained noise from Zayn.

"Can't find the star from down here. Been trying since you left," he groaned, going back to looking up at the view above him. The lights and ornaments and handmade figurines stretched out on top of him, reaching all the way to the top where leaves and twigs blocked their view of any complete item.

"The star?" Zayn couldn't help but laugh, looking between branches to find said piece.

"Yeah, shut up. Don't make fun of me. The star at the top, I can't find it."

"What provoked this game?"

"I can't find the star from down here."

"Right," Zayn laughed, eyes crinkling to slits as Niall elbowed his rib. "Whatever you say, babes."

"Shh."

"You're so damn weird."

"But you love me," Niall teased.

"I do," Zayn agreed, a soft finger under Niall's chin, urging him to look at him. "I really do."

They kissed lethargicly, lips molding and caressing each other with unspoken words. A hand suddenly appeared on Niall's bum, squeezing the flesh harshly until Niall pulled away angrily.

"You're distracting me, stop!"

"Distracting you, _what_? Am I not more important than this game?"

"Of course you are, baby, but if I don't do this now I'm never going to."

"I really can't stand you right now."

Niall just continued looking through cracks, holding Zayn's hand and occasionally running the tan knuckles across his cheek as he hummed.

"Still can't find it," he grumbled.

"Found it already."

"Where!?"

"I'm looking at it," he murmured a beat too late, squeezing the pale hand in his.

Niall turned immediately, a bit bummed he lost though he was searching first when he found Zayn staring back at him. His first reaction was to curve an eyebrow, laugh in a silly manner and softly call Zayn _stupid_ , but the look on the tan man's face stopped him.

He looked...he looked, barren. Like, _barren_. Void of facades or masks. No cover up of emotions. He just expressed whatever he felt shifting through his torso across his face; that's how he looked. It was intimidating to witness, Niall felt like the bare one, like he was slapped vulnerably with Zayn's intense gaze.

It was the first time Niall ever saw his face in such a drastic, beautiful way.

"Zayn?" he whispered after a moment, burning redder as each second ticked. "Zayn, you're okay?"

Zayn's face crumbled, unable to hold itself together as he laughed, the sound coming out painful.

"God, I love you," he stressed, cupping Niall's chin with lack of something to do. "Should it hurt this much with how much I _love you_?" he chuckled again, though he seemed concerned with the question also.

"Babe, your heart's beating fast," he tried to laugh, registering the rapid thumps of his man's heart under his palm. Zayn was burning over him.

"I really, really love you," he answered slowly, enunciating each word. "That's all."

They made love there, a bit uncomfortable and tight with the limited space but neither felt like moving. Niall might've picked out pine needles out of his hair to the next day and Zayn maybe found a few poking his eyes during the activity, but they didn't mind.

It was the last time they had sex under it, but the next few Christmases followed suit, with Niall looking for the star and Zayn finding it first.

*

 

Niall spent the holidays alone. Not by force, by choice.

He spent the day prior with Louis, wishing him a happy 24th birthday and showering him with so many pecks on the cheek, Aiden had to steer him away after a bit.

It was the first time he met him, too. And he was tall with a gleaming smile and he even had Louis almost rolling on the floor in laughter. He was quirky, knew how to keep up with Louis and knew when Louis had enough to drink.

Niall reluctantly witnessed an intimate gesture between them. It wasn't _grand_ , or obscene. But as he fled the kitchen for the last time, he spotted him swiping his finger over Louis' nose, cleaning the alcohol droplets there before coyly shaking the same finger down at him; Louis only beamed up at him, hands already holding onto Aiden's shirt and Niall felt like an intruder, suddenly looking away to find Ashton or Michael.

He did text Harley a Merry Christmas and hoping she was having an awesome time with her family. She didn't reply and Niall was okay with that, was used to not receiving replies.

It was the day of Christmas, when he willingly drank a cup of wine by himself and laid under the tree, that he started feeling weird, feeling stumped.

It was the first time he spent it alone because last year Maura forced him to gather around her dining table as Katie, Denise and Greg sat with them, too.

He suddenly, not for the first time and definitely not the last time, missed a lot of people.

He missed Liam, so fucking much. He missed his cousin he hadn't spoken to since his birthday and hadn't seen in over a year. He missed his scolding lessons when they were younger, when Niall tried to persuade him to use his father's cologne and Liam would deny. He missed the way he'd laugh quietly when Niall spoke an inappropriate joke in class innocently, the way he'd cover his face and shake with the chuckles. He missed their culinary attempts for their mothers on Mother's Day and the way they were always the first to volunteer in a game of Dodgeball.

He missed Harry, really missed him. He hadn't spoken to him since around the time Zayn and he broke up, before that, actually. He missed when Harry would stick up for him the rare times Zayn was mad at him for accidentally disrupting class. He missed the way he was the only one Harry invited to play golf because the blond was the only one from the bunch who appreciated the beautiful sport. He missed the time he was expertly trying to swap a fly in his and Louis' kitchen, how he swung the rag and only managed to knock over the flower pot Trisha gave him, scattering soggy dirt everywhere; he remembered the way Louis just rolled his eyes fondly as Harry looked up at them alarmed.

He missed Theo, wow, how much he missed his little _baby_. He missed his gapped front teeth that always made an appearance when he smiled. He missed the way he faithfully said bless you when Niall coughed because he never dropped that habit. He missed his tendency to tie his shoes multiple times; Niall never fully found out why he did this, but he'd give anything to see him stop in the middle of a walk to kneel and tie his scruffy sneakers, just one more time.

Most of all, selfishly and ashamedly, he missed Zayn. _Obviously_ , he missed Zayn. It was almost comical to admit because it was _so_ obvious. He missed everything. Every, single, fucking, thing.

Niall missed his facial hair when he went a few days without shaving it, the feel of the bristles over his lips when he brushed them through it; Niall knew he purposely avoided the razor for him. He missed when his tan hand stubbornly pulled him back in when Niall felt a bit hot in the middle of the night, when he was too lazy to turn on the air conditioner. He missed his mouth, not only for its wonderful tricks, but for the times they stayed awake late and Zayn would just ramble on and on about a documentary book he came across; Niall would try, he really would try to pay attention, but he was entranced with the vowels and consonants being formed by the prettiest mouth he's ever seen.

He missed his comic books that were sprawled everywhere, taking up more space than necessary. He missed the days Zayn just wanted to stay home and keep Niall on his chest as they watched television, then Netflix, then a physical copy of one of his Marvel DVDs before ordering Pizza or whatever the blond wanted. He missed the way he'd pout when Niall didn't want to suck his dick or ride him lazily; it was so often Niall grew accustomed to his stubborn frown, but would always relent because it benefited them both.

Niall missed his hands when he sketched, his legs when they bent during football, his hair when it wasn't kempt. He missed him physically, and mentally, and emotionally, and if you got him drunk enough he might confess he missed him spiritually, almost religiously. No one ever affected Niall so much, never made him feel so connected and alone at the same time.

Which was maybe why he found himself perched under his tree, the one Greg left because Theo was the one who picked it out three years ago.

The house was dark, only the few candles emitting light as he laid there, fiddling through Instagram and liking friends' holiday posts as they came. It struck him how lonely he was, how even if he spent the day with Louis or his mother, he was still going to ball up into himself and stay in a corner, an unreserved space that wouldn't call disturbance. Being with people wasn't going to make a difference.

He stayed on Instagram, took a picture of his view and scrolled through the filters.

 _Still cant find it_ , he wrote in the caption, the image filled with dotted artificial lights and green leaves that stretched above him. He sent the link to Zayn, too. Not expecting a reply that didn't come.

 

  
Harley came back a week after New Years. If Niall was being honest he wasn't expecting her return at all. _At all_.

"I want to work on us," she greeted, not giving Niall time to close the front door, bags still perched across her small figure.

He opened his mouth to retaliate, to say _something_ when--

"Shut up. Don't argue with me on this. You don't know how hard it was keeping all this inside for the past two weeks. I didn't tell anyone, and it nearly killed me."

"Harley--"

"Do you want to get over him?" she asked, cutting him off. She heaved repeatedly, nose red from the brisk wind outside. "Well, do you?"

"Of course," Niall said, wishing he didn't have to face the accuracy of his answer. "More than anything."

She nodded to herself, then; looked to the side and breathed evenly finally.

"Okay," she spoke to no one. "Okay." Hazel eyes looked up to Niall, and for a split second he forgot where he was, couldn't tell the difference between time and space and couldn't remember why he was there. "Okay, look," she broke through his episode, "I can't promise you I'll be understanding all of the time. I can't say I'm going to always be there because no one likes to be second best."

"But you're not," he stressed.

"Let me finish, Niall. I can't promise you everything. But you can't promise me that you will eventually get over Zayn." Niall didn't like the way his name sounded against her red mouth, how his past and present collided in an ugly mess at the moment. She continued, "You can't promise that you'll see _me_ all the time, that I'm the only one you'll think about. You can't promise me you'll love me like you did him. I know that, but I'm still willing to try."

"Why?" he asked, perplexed. Who'd want to be the rebound? She _wasn't_ , but there was only so many ways to look at the current, fucked up mess in front of them. "Why would you put yourself in that position when you don't deserve that, Harley? Tell me."

"Because I want to be with you," she frowned honestly, not wanting to confess such idiocy. "I liked you when I first saw you with your nephew, and I liked you even more when I met you at the grocery store. And even with my family I couldn't get you out of my head." Her eyes shimmered steadily, making the color resemble melting gold. "I don't like this situation, not one bit. But I'd be lying if I said leaving you will make me feel better."

"Don't cry," he whispered, going to embrace her when she stepped away harshly, never losing eye contact.

"No, don't touch me. Not yet. This is all really fucked up, but I'm willing to help you if you help me, too."

He found himself nodding, quickly shaking his head in agreement. Her hands shook by her side, pink nails making tight fists as she struggled to compose herself. Niall felt so, fucking, shitty.

"Okay," he whispered, just wanting to get that expression off her face. "Okay, Harley."

He never ate a girl out so much in one day, never put so much physical and mental effort into making the other person feel safe and wanted. But at the end she fell asleep next to him and if Niall thought about it really hard, gave this idea all his strength, well. Yeah, it was worth it.

It was better than being alone.

 

  
She's helpful throughout the whole year, more helpful than Niall expected and way more than he deserved.

She was there when _Crash Into Me_ randomly started playing on the radio, and he hadn't even heard the beginning of that song since he and Zayn were happy, _happy_ ; before all this shit. It made him clench the steering wheel tightly, caused him to hit the break suddenly when Dave Matthews sang the first bar.

"Turn that off," he huffed, hoping there weren't any cars around because his eyes clenched and unclenched repeatedly.

"Why? Love this song," she hummed, turning the volume up and Niall swerved to the nearest empty space and pressed the brake, barely managed to put it in park before he banged the heels of his hands against his temples repeatedly.

"Turn that off Turn that off Turn that off Turn that off," he harshly spat, rocking back and forth in the confined seat as Harley grew panicked next to him. She must've been afflicting question after question, unsure what to do, but Niall registered a small commotion next to him, someone trying to find answers without given any evidence.

He kept chanting something in his head, coming to focus with the radio off and Harley looking straight ahead, gold hair matted and watery trails down her face.

"What was that?" she croaked calmly. Niall suspected he zoned out for long, noting the setting sun to their left.

"Are you okay?" he asked instead, hoping to divert the attention, just wanting to go back home.

"I asked you first," she crumbled, turning to him finally, light eyes crinkling in dismay. "Niall, what the hell just happened?"

"I don't like that song," he clipped. "I don't want to get into it, but I think of that song and--" And he shuddered again, couldn't get the memory of himself performing during his third school year in front of everyone; in front of him.

"Does it have to do with--"

"Yes," he gulped. "So I don't like that song." He turned forward, looked out the windshield and sighed heavily, closed his eyes and felt pathetic.

It's been about two years. Two years of no Zayn. Two years of not hearing his voice, not seeing his face. His face, Niall thought sadly, visibly laughing painfully as he bit his knuckle. Two years was such a long time. Two years was half of their time together. It was so long and with an ugly epiphany, Niall realized he'd do anything to catch a glimpse of him; whether it be his jaw, the vein going down his neck, the Asian tattoo pressed on the outside of his left wrist. Anything.

"I used to be involved in the youth of my church when I was thirteen," Harley started, and Niall looked to find her idly messing with Niall's free hand, running her small finger pads over his knuckles.

"Wha--"

"We once had an outing and they said to bring someone, so I brought my cousin, right?" she shrugged, like this was just normal conversation. "So I bring her and we go eat at a diner and afterwards we chilled at one of the youth's house, Clary," she smirked in memory. "So, yeah, like I said. It's the first time my cousin meets all of them, and we're all sprawled in Clary's room. Then her boyfriend makes a joke, and after we all laughed, my fucking cousin farts. In front of _strangers_ ," she stressed, turning to him.

Niall couldn't help but genuinely chuckle a few times.

"That's so fucked up," he smirked.

"I know! But guess what? Because I was next to her, no one knew if it was me or her! So we're there, blaming the other person, and my cousin's _red_ , and I'm laughing my ass off because she wants to blame _me_! And everyone else is either laughing or shocked or teaming up with me or her..."

At this point Niall was cracking up, throwing his head back and clenching his stomach with the way Harley told the story incredulously. She continued to talk, only stopped when Niall honestly couldn't take the growing pain in his abdomen with all the tensing muscles.

She's there when they were watching _The Hunger Games_ , while Katniss was running around dizzily after being bitten by the engineered insects, that Niall knew the melody playing, knew what instruments were being strung and when the break came because he never shut up about it.

"That's _Allt Varð Hljótt,_ " he informed, remembering the exact pronunciation. He knew the Icelandic composer like the back of his hand, could've named the first five tracks of all his albums if asked because Zayn played them constantly and, and.

This wasn't supposed to be happening. Not again. Not when he was trying so hard to forget five years and Harley was trying even harder for the both of them. This wasn't supposed to happen. And a part of him believed he deserved the hurt. He deserved the occasional tremors that came throughout the days when he couldn't get his face out of his mind. He deserved the inability to breathe in enough air when it hit him with drastic momentum that he wasn't there, Zayn wasn't _there_ , hadn't been there in so long and Niall still wasn't used to it. He deserved the dreaded moments where he couldn't go to bed and would sit on the backroom's windowsill until early morning because thinking intently about it all was better than pretending it didn't happened. He deserved it.

Harley didn't.

"Niall..." she called, reaching to him with a small, soft hand, but Niall flew instantly, couldn't feel her without crumbling with guilt. She was so much better than all this shit. And Niall couldn't put her through his shit.

"Ólafur Arnalds randomly started playing," he muttered into the phone, unsure why he was doing this once again. "Weird, right? He's not known, so why did his song start playing?" he sniffed. " _Crash Into Me_ was playing the other day, too. And I find it so weird, Zayn. I find it weird that they both played not too long ago from each other, when I hadn't heard them since we lived together," he laughed softly. The creaking of the floor beneath his feet was the only soundtrack for a few heartbeats.

"Do you even want to know how I am?" he whimpered. " _How ah you, sunshine?_ you'd asked. I can hear you so clearly in my head. And I haven't heard your voice in two years, Zayn. Two. Years. Doesn't that mean anything to you? Did I mean that little to you? Like-- Zayn, I-- This is all bullshit, Zayn," he cried. "This radio silence shit is not working for me, and I don't know what to do. And believe me, I have no right to--"

The voicemail beeped with the closure. For some inexplicable reason, one he would never decipher and didn't like to dwell on, he called back, used to the way it immediately went to voicemail.

"Well I'm fucking fine, all right?" he screamed. "I've made a life for myself here. And I'm happy. I'm _happy_. More happy than the last few months of our relationship, Zayn!" he heaved, heating up in the small space of the bathroom. "I'm fine, in case you were wondering. And I hope you're fine, too. You deserve it. I'll go now. You know where to reach me, just. Please call?" he whispered. "I really hope you're fine, Zayn."

"One time in college..." Harley began when Niall walked in fifteen minutes later, pout on display but looking at her blue nails instead of making eye contact. "I was sitting next to my best friend, but we weren't talking. So I turned to my other best friend, on my left, yeah? But she was turned the other way and had to twist around to see me properly," she chuckled, making Niall smile along because he loved her grin. "So she turns," she laughed, needing a moment to reign herself in. "She turns," she started again, only to erupt in chortles. Niall only laughed along with her, couldn't help it when her laugh was so contagious.

"She turns and...?" he smiled, sitting next to her.

"She turns and falls," she squeaks, close to crying. "She falls and-- She stays there for a few seconds and I'm scared because I literally thought she died." She was red at this point, mouth open wide with amused noises coming out. "But she stays there, and our teacher, this fatass man, comes over, fucking _hovers_ over her and," she tried to continue, slapping her hands together. Niall was losing it at this point. "She gets up and puts her head against the table because she's _so_ embarrassed."

"That's so fucked up," Niall laughed, couldn't help it when Harley was currently crying and clutching her torso almost painfully.

"So I'm there," she squeals, trying to sound coherent through the chortles, "laughing my fucking ass off while we take a test, and my best friend next to me is trying not to laugh either because we're not talking," she gasped, falling back against the sofa, "and it was one hell of a period. We still make fun of our friend," she finished, laughing into her palm as Niall ducked to place his head over her stomach, laughing by himself at this point.

And she's there when Niall overheard a customer talk about the latest Noble mobile, how _Zayn Malik just carries on his father's legacy perfectly_.

It all suddenly became real, so vividly real and alive in his mind. Zayn was a businessman, practically a CEO and Niall didn't know how to deal with that. That was Zayn they were talking about. His Zayn. Fuck whoever disagreed but Niall would always think of Zayn as his, his and only his. Thinking of him in another way only caused a headache that lasted hours.

The customer sat by the window, on the phone, innocently conversing about someone Niall knew better than his own mother. That was Zayn, _his_ Zayn. He couldn't stop repeating that in his head. That was a Zayn that didn't exist in his life, a Zayn he never experienced.

A Zayn he'd never experience and

And he needed to leave, now. Paul was lenient with him, knew Niall was a determined coworker and thoroughly knew of his broken state (from Michael), so with a strict nod and a point, Niall left early, almost ran the way home and collapsed on his bed, only waking up hours later to a hand caressing his hair.

Harley sat next to him, full eyelashes fanning her cheeks and plump mouth in a frown.

"Michael called me," she whispered. Niall hated failing her. "Came straight here after work."

"Har--"

"One Sunday, during a long service at church," she swallowed, pushing his bangs aside.

"Harley, you don't have to do this." She only blinked quickly and tensed her jaw.

"During the service, I sat there, so fucking bored. And after awhile I moved to the back and took out my phone. So I'm sitting there, kik'ing friends and shit, when one of them kiks back they're horny," she smirks. "So me, as the humanitarian I am, started sexting him, no pictures, though; I'm in church."

"Oh my God, you're in church," he chuckled. "You dirty girl!"

"Yeah, but guess what?" she smiled. "We're sexting, and the pastor is _finally_ finishing, and I turn around to find my mum reading over my shoulder."

"Get the fuck outta here."

"Most embarrassing moment of my life," she laughed.

"That's the most fucked up shit I've ever heard."

She shrugged, "we're still friends," Niall laughed loudly at this point, "and she still loves me," she smiled.  
It wasn't her funniest story, and he didn't fully forget his dilemma, but she gave him a blowjob in the shower and cooked him his favorite meal afterwards.

Niall enjoyed it all while it lasted.

 

Niall was getting better, even he noticed. Whenever Zayn came to mind, he was able to tamper the episode down until he was alone, and even then he didn't lash or blank out looking at the wall for a period of time. It had also been a full year since he last called Zayn. So that was good. Another year.

But it was one of those rare nights where he pondered over Zayn _and_ Theo. If he was being honest with himself, he didn't think of his nephew often. Not by negligence but because it didn't aid him at all when there was a 100% chance of never seeing his little baby boy again.

He sat on the windowsill, overlooking the backyard with a thin flannel over his frame when Harley walked in. It was the first time she ever became present during these events.

"Babe, you're okay?" he asked, finding his girlfriend sluggishly sitting across from him.

She didn't answer, just looked out the window also as silence lapped over them again.

"What're you thinking about?" she asked quietly, firming her foot between his.

"Honestly?" he spoke just as quietly. "Me nephew, mostly. Miss that little boy more than anything right now. More than anything," he gulped.

When he was positive she wasn't going to respond or fell asleep, she sighed against the window, the glass becoming foggy.

"When I was fourteen, my mum gave birth. I had a baby sister," she murmured. Niall never heard of this. "Her name was Vicki, and I fell in love with her instantly, Niall," she smiled at him. "I mean that in the truest sense. I've never been more in love.

"My mum had a difficult labor, so she stayed in the hospital for a few weeks and I offered to stay home with Vicki since it was the summer. So I did everything for her." Her eyelids began to droop, and she leaned her head against the wall behind her. "I fed her, changed her, burped her, cleaned her. I made sure her outfit was always pretty and her face was always spotless. She was the most beautiful little girl I've seen till this day. And I wanted nothing more than to be everything for her.

"I was always her number one provider, and she looked up to me like I made all things pretty in the world," she smiled lazily. "It was always me and her. Everywhere. I loved her more than anything and everything in the universe, Ni. And when she was three, our parents divorced. My father took her away from me."

"I'm sorry, Harley," Niall whispered, gripping her hand tightly as he stared at her sympathetically. He could relate so much. "Babe, I'm so damn sorry. Why didn't you tell me this before?"

She only looked out the window.

"I saw her again when she was ten. She was tall and skinny with so much blonde hair," she quirked with a smile. "She was just as beautiful. And she didn't even remember me. I've tried for months after that to be the woman she needed when she was younger, to be her everything, but," she shrugged, "she grew up. And I missed it. And I lost the one important thing to me."

"Baby, come here," Niall frowned, pulling Harley towards him but she stood her ground.

"I'm not saying this for pity, Niall," she firmed. "Sometimes, things, or in this case people, come into our lives and change everything. And I mean _everything_. And you don't know why they're so important or so _needed_ , but they are. And you honestly cannot get enough of them and even when they're asleep, just seeing them at peace makes you happy.

"And sometimes, they're taken away. And I know you hear this all the time, Niall. I'm well aware this is taught through books and movies and plays and shit. But you don't understand just how valid this life lesson is until it happens to you. To _you_."

"Why are you saying this?" he whispered, a frown curving his eyebrows.

"Because sometimes you don't get fixed after it. No matter how much time passes, no matter how much help you get. No matter how much you want to help _yourself_ , you don't get fixed. Ever. And it's fucked up that two broken people found each other when there's nothing to do about it."

 

 

Niall honestly does not know how this all started, but before he gave it enough thought, he arranged the plan with Paul, and was driving down the highway with five free days ahead of him.

He needed to see it to believe it. He needed to see the house, _their_ house. Not because he was desperately caving in and needed a semblance of him. But it had been almost four years and he still couldn't come to grips that Zayn wasn't at the home they spent the same amount of time in.

It took 26 hours of driving, two stops on the way to rest, when he got there. 

He thought some force or supernatural pressure would've fallen over him at the sight, but he just sat planted in his seat as the building stood in front of him.

It did appear vacant, though. And with slumped defeat it became real to Niall. He _wasn't_ there. He wasn't _there_.

Zayn wasn't _there_ anymore. He wasn't in the only place Niall could've pictured him so easily in.

He wondered if someone else owned the house, but as he unlocked the door and unconsciously punched in the house alarm's code, eerie silence followed.

Dust particles churned in the stale air around him as the quietness stretched. He only moved to straighten his back, to be bold and strong in the apparently empty house.

It really was empty. Zayn wasn't there.

And as Niall roamed the rooms, the one he slept in four years ago, right _there_ ; the kitchen he spent more time than usual, concocting something delicious or propped over a counter while Zayn--

"Niall?"

Niall's hand froze in midair as he went to open a drawer, the drawer he inhabited, when his voice broke the stilled air. It took all his willpower not to turn and run away, unable to face the man behind him. He must've looked stupid, caught in the act as his back faced the rest of the room, faced him. Time healed some wounds but not all; not enough.

They weren't supposed to meet like this. Not with Niall trespassing and pitch silence of four years between them. Not when Niall didn't know what to say and he was to blame for the absence. Not when he looked so fucking awkward and _obsessed_ , in his exboyfriend's house. Exboyfriend, the word punctured heavily in his stomach grusomely.

"Hey, Harry," he wavered, turning around slowly and hoping the expression on his face was indeed benevolent. "Hey, man. Haven't seen you in years," he tried to chuckle, the noise falling before it reached the man across from him.

"What are you doing here?" Harry asked, hand on doorknob, eyebrow raised curiously. Even now he didn't look mad. He didn't seem bothered or disappointed with Niall's actions. He just appeared downright curious and intrigued. "Mate, you good?" he continued when Niall failed to answer. "I don't think you're allowed here, so..."

"Please don't tell him," Niall begged, gripping his elbow tightly. "I just came to get a few things and..." he swallowed, looked towards the bureau next to him. It was a set they bought together after a year, with gold lining and a cherrywood frame. The surface was covered in so many layers of dust it was difficult seeing the color under it. He exhaled, "He really did move?"  
Harry didn't answer, just pressed his lips in a line and shrugged apologetically, like Niall was the only little kid who didn't get candy from the party.

"He really just," there was a pen on the bureau Niall picked up, and he smeared the dust coating away, recognized it as one of Zayn's favorite pens, "He really moved."

"Niall...? I don't want to kick you out. I mean, _I won't_ , but. Why are you here?"

Niall breathed a laugh, smiled tightly and recognized a photo frame on the chest across from him. It was one of Zayn and him, faces pressed together with the view of the Alps behind them; it was Zayn's favorite.

"I don't know," he croaked, rubbing a thumb over his forehead before he crumbled. "It's his birthday today. I thought-- I thought something, I'm not sure anymore, Harry. I got my answers. Just please don't tell him I was here. I'll get out of your way."

"Hey," Harry said softly, firming an arm between Niall and the escape. His free hand chucked Niall's chin up, blue eyes reluctantly shimmering from the hallway light. "You're just going to leave like that?" he teased. "Haven't seen you in years and you're already running away?"

Niall found himself at a diner, sat across from Harry as they made themselves warm with the complimentary appetizers. He was still shaken up by what he witnessed, even Harry noticed. The remnants of the house were Niall's. Only Niall's belongings stayed in place. His guitars lined up in the room across the guest bathroom. A few boxes of blonde dye placed behind the bathroom's mirror. (He debated taking them; his last treatment was fading on the roots.) And the living room, hallway, and grand bedroom, held the photos of both of them. One during Liam's birthday party at a club. Another when they visited Zayn's parents. A few taken just by Harry's avid shots he'd take in a row. They were still there. And Niall realized Zayn left all reminders of Niall.

Niall found himself gripping the tea mug in front of him tightly. This was all a waste of time.

"This was a waste of time," he muttered to no one, paying attention to the steam in front of him.

Harry sighed across from him, slumped back in his seat and searched for thoughts to say.

"I don't think it was a waste of time. You completed something you wanted to do. If you didn't do it now, you were going to do it eventually. It was going to eat at you," he smirked. Niall couldn't help smirking along.

"Yeh, guess you're right." He sat back in his seat, focusing on the curly-haired, green-eyed, _apparent-facial-hair_ man in front of him. "Mate, how are you, though? Haven't spoken in, what, four years?"

"Your fault," Harry murmured, staring down now, clearly hurt.

"I'm sorry," he spoke, nothing but the truth being heard. "I hope you know that, Harry. Whether you forgive me or not, please know that. I still love the shit out of you, man."

Harry pondered over this for awhile, fixed his headband idly as he let the seconds tick by before grinning evilly at Niall.

"Brought you out for dinner, yeah? Still sitting with you. I think I forgive you, but don't be smug. I said I _think_ ," he winked. Niall only smiled softly in return.

Niall learned that Harry was teaching weekday classes of yoga, that he spent his freetime taking pictures and trying to paint the beautiful scenery of his surroundings.

Niall learned he was an uncle to two handsome nephews named Julian and Harry, after him. He found out Anne and Robin moved to South Africa for the hell of it and Harry visited twice already, that it was beautiful and there was so much to be done.

Niall also learned that Liam and Danielle broke up just the year prior, that Danielle's father didn't like Liam to the point it seperated them. Niall panicked at this, couldn't believe he didn't know this, his own fucking _cousin_ , his _blood_ , his _first best friend_ , but Harry was quick to inform him that it only lasted four months before she caved in.

Niall also found out that Harry dated a little here and there. An American blonde named Taylor that was too nice for her own good but didn't know how to roll with the punches.

"I forgot her dog's name and she fussed about it for a whole day, Niall," he had informed incredulously, Niall cackling obnoxiously against the seat.

There was a girl after that named Kendall, and she was so fucking beautiful it was intimidating.

"Niall, I'm serious," he had hissed, leaning over the table since he was speaking low. "I mean, she was _Beautiful!_ Capital B! Her whole _family_ was pretty! The whole time we were together I've never witnessed them with ugly faces."

Another girl after that, a short, straightforward Hispanic named May who actually grasped enough of Harry's attention to steer it away from Louis, but she was only on vacation and it was predetermined to be a fling.

"You haven't dated any boys since Louis?"

Harry shook his head, twirled the straw in his cup slowly.

"Nah, tried once. Some bloke named Nick who was like, the older replica of Louis, himself, but," he shrugged, pursed his lips. "Couldn't do it."

"Louis still loves you," Niall blurted, growing crimson with the vital fact that that was so unnecessary to _say_. And if Louis would've been there, Niall bet his life savings his best friend would lure him to a corner to beat the living shit out of him; at least kick him repeatedly pretty fucking hard.

But Harry only smiled, flared his nostrils out of habit.

"I know," he quirked. "I know he does. Met his new boyfriend, too," he spat. And this was too good to be true.

"I didn't know this," Niall purred, resting his chin on his hand and making himself comfortable. "When was this?"

"Louis' last birthday, before the one that just passed." Niall didn't go that time, was stuck with a broken engine and the cabs were all booked with the holidays. It was Louis' 26th birthday and the only one Niall missed. _Fuck_.

"Why the fuck am I hearing about this now? Tell me!" he grinned. Harry only grinned wider.

"All right. So I got there," he drawled, the perpetual boring lilt to his voice present. "It was a bit of a surprise, actually," he sniffed, rubbed his nose unconsciously. "And this jerk's all over Louis. I automatically knew it was Andy," he rolled his eyes.

"Aiden."

"Whatever. So, yeah. I walk up to them, and mind you, Louis and I are still friends. We text occasionally and once in a blue moon I'd call him. So he's smiling all big," Harry breathed in thought and Niall could've guessed what he was thinking, "and he gives me a hug, and I hug him back. Niall, I couldn't let go for a second," he laughed at himself. "But Lou got uncomfortable so--"

"Tell me!" he grumbled, making Harry shudder a quick laugh.

"So I let him go and Aiden's giving me this nasty eye look, like he's sizing me all up. And I give him my hand, smile my charming smile and say _Harry, his exboyfriend_ ," he smirked cheekily.

"You're kidding," Niall beamed.

"Nope," he shook his head. "Then he shakes my hand firmer and says some shit like _new boyfriend_ , _current boyfriend_. I don't remember. But before I left I pulled him to the side and told him to keep Louis safe, that no matter what happened to _be_ there for him.

"And he asked me what happened between us, like why we broke up. And I automatically knew Louis didn't tell him," he drifted, staring at the table. "I know Louis. He's quick to lash out and bring down people who hurt him. If it was anyone else, he'd have been curse my name to his boyfriend, make me the trashy guy. But I know he's not because he still loves me. Because he doesn't want anyone looking wrong at me," he finished.

"Sounds a bit arrogant," Niall said, though that did sound like Louis a lot. _A lot_.

"But I'm not. You know that more than most people, Ni. I know Louis loves me. He didn't look at Aiden once the way he looked at me. And I know," he blinked, fidgeting in his seat, "I know I have no right chasing him, but as long as he gives me reasons to keep going I'm not giving up," he shook his head. "I'm not. Fuck, even after that I'm not. I can't," he laughed disbelievingly.

"Kudos to you, man," Niall nodded. "I admire your determination."

"And you? Do I want to ask who you've been associated with?"

"Um," he thought," I dated a girl for over a year. We just broke up last year."

"Do I want to know why?"

"Just didn't work out."

"Why's that?"

"You know why," Niall whispered, a bit aggravated with Harry's question.

They lapsed into silence after a bit, only moved when Harry said they've been there long enough. Harry drove them there, and as Niall sat back and looked out the window at the familiar surroundings, he didn't plan to be dropped off _across_ the street from his car, in front of his old home. Home. 

"Harry?"

"You can stay here for the night, I won't tell him. I check the place once a month to make sure security's working and to pick up mail. That's it."

"It's fine, I was just going to drive to an inn or something."

"But you want to stay here, I know you do," he spoke tightly, not looking away from Niall. And he suddenly appeared... _angry_.

"Harry, what are you--"

"You need closure," he spat. And it made sense to Niall.

Then Harry looked forward and sighed deeply, closed his eyes and tensed his jaw.

"Zayn's the surest person I know. I've never met anyone like him," Harry huffed, gripping the steering wheel tightly. "He always knows what to say and he never left me when Louis broke up with me. He was the only one who stayed. The _only one_. He knew what to say when to say it and he talked me out of stupid situations so many times," he carried on.

"Zayn cares about everyone more than himself. He puts the fucking world ahead before he thinks of doing anything for him. And more than anything, he cared about you."

Niall only swallowed, wanted to vanish into thin air and never return if possible.

"He cared for you more than anything and everything in the world, Niall. He was my best friend, the smartest person I've ever met and you were everything to him."

"Harry, please stop."

"I lost my best friend because of you," he whimpered. "He was there all the time and you fucked him over. He couldn't take it and he left for the first time, Niall. Because of you."

"I didn't mean it," Niall uttered pitifully. "I swear to God I didn't mean it, Harry."

"Why are you here?" Harry repeated, ignoring Niall.

"Because you're in way better shape than me," sounded better than _I've been in love with the same man for eight years and only been with him for half of it._

  
Niall wanted to hate Liam, he really wanted to. He wanted to wallow in self-misery for a bit and apologize repeatedly for being a shitty cousin. But Liam only shrugged and pulled him into a tight hug, didn't let go and Niall _wouldn't_ let go until Liam's scent faded.

"I'm really happy to see you," Liam cooed. Niall only smiled brightly with his mouth full of Danielle's chicken.

It was the last day before Niall had to go back to make it to work on time. He pushed it until it was almost too late because he wasn't ready to see Liam again after four years. But Liam welcomed him in with comforting arms and brushed away all of Niall's apologies, said there was no reason to apologize when all he did was become a recluse for a bit.

"You're my favorite cousin ever," Niall muttered into his chest, hugging him tighter than earlier and tackling him onto the floor before he had to leave. "Seriously, Li. Never doing that again. I'm calling you as soon as I get home."

Liam only chuckled, petted Niall's hair and held him a bit too long before he _really_ had to leave.

"Hey," Liam said at the door, after Niall kissed Danielle goodbye and jokingly said he'll return once they were happily married with two children. He gave the blonde a skeptical look, curved one corner of his mouth. "You good?" he pressed.

"I'm great, man. Better now that I've seen you."

"Don't lie," he smiled guiltily. "You look a bit," he motioned towards his face, "different. Your eyes are sad."

"My eyes are tired, s'all. Got a long drive ahead of me."

"I heard how you took Zayn's departure." He crossed his arms, leaned against the doorframe. "And Harry might've mentioned how he found you a few days ago."

"I don't know what to tell you."

"I just want to know if you're good. That's it. You don't look it."

"Hey, that's not fair. I remember you once saying you wanted me independent. You can't have both. I'm _good_ ," he laughed, breath becoming smoke with the frigid air.

"I wanted you independent, but not this, Niall. Not this."

 

  
Niall's come to grips that Zayn and him would never cross paths again, would never intersect and he's okay with that.

He wasn't good, might not ever be, but there were times he genuinely smiled and enjoyed spending time with Michael and the guys.

He stopped calling Zayn, didn't need to, anyway. He received the closure he unconsciously sought for the night he stayed at their place. And if he thought long enough he imagined Zayn behind him, held enough memories to make it believable.

His Sound Engineering degree did come in handy, because with Ashton and Michael getting close with Luke and Calum, they brought their abilities together and wrote enough songs for an album. And Niall was there mixing their voices together and blending their instruments until the right melody echoed throughout the room. His Music degree evidently helped; he was able to give a few needed pointers and they liked--loved­­-- when he accompanied them; Niall liked being with them, too.

He believed that chapter of his life closed, was put to rest. There was still a tangible part in his heart that yearned for Zayn, this small, powerful fire that overcame his resistance on bad days and threatened to break the balance on his greatest days. But it's just like the loss of Theo: the hurt never really goes away, you just learn how to live with it.

"We gotta get to work soon," Michael sang, leaning back in his chair to make sure Paul wasn't on to them yet. Ashton sat with them also, tapping a beat with two unused straws as Niall scrolled through Twitter, sucking his teeth when he found out the game Derby were supposed to play that night was canceled due to inclement weather.

"But I don't wanna," he began to complain before the bell over the door rang, and they all immediately got up to assist the customer before Paul witnessed them lounging around.

"What was that about not wanting to work, Niall?" Michael said a bit too loudly, a laughing Ashton going to clean the restroom. Niall turned to flip him off, smiling gleefully before standing behind the cash register.

And the last person he ever thought he'd be serving coffee to is Zayn.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...jk, it's not the end; I'm thinking a chapter and an epilogue left? I wanted to post this before tomorrow because tomorrOW I'M SEEING THE BOYS KDJBFL;BGb >;A;LJLJV! I'M SF HAPPY! I'm seeing our boys for the first time :)))))) *trembles repeatedly* So I hope you like this chapter, as always. I work tediously on it. I hate filler/dull chapters :( I apologize in advance if this one or any previous chapter is filler/dull lol but I'm working on the next chapter as we speak :3  
> Oh, and if you've seen the boys already or are going to see them tomorrow (with me :DDD) tell me about it xxx  
> (well technically whoever's seeing the boys later on today because it's already midnight x3)


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dudes! I saw them! And Louis waved at me!!!!! my sunshine waved at me I'm still shaking DDDDDD: Okay before you think I'm lying and was sitting 198469863 feet away, after the rain postponed everything, my best friend (more like my lover, fucking love that girl) and I sneaked up and sat at F11 R14 Seats 4 and 5, and we were approximately fifteen away from the boys when they walked down the runway. And at one point as Louis was looking in our direction, I started jumping and screaming and flailing my hands everywhere and he waved :)))))))): I still have goosebumps. Zarry also shared a water bottle and we were able to vividly see Niall's buttchin and Liam hip thrusted our way constantly and at the end Ziall did this sorta half hug as they were leaving the stage and that was maybe the highlight of my night (life); or half of it.  
> Post-concert depression is a bitch, too.  
> I start college tomorrow :((( (if anyone from uk is reading, college is university in america)  
> Btw, on a strict note this chapter is written in present tense instead of past. I'm just so used to that way so sorry if it feels different :x  
> epilogue left?

Somewhere, Niall's running. He's running out of school because class ended and his boyfriend is waiting for him on the sidewalk. Zayn is leaning against his car with a cigarette in one hand and his phone in the other, waiting for Niall's departure. And when Niall gets there, the little blond gently plucks the fag from Zayn's hand and steps on it thoroughly before tiptoeing to kiss his fondly groaning boyfriend.

Maybe _he's_ the one waiting, standing outside Zayn's dressing room with an overflowing bouquet after Zayn finished his performance. He's waiting patiently and is rewarded when Zayn yanks the door open to pull him in, clashing their lips together with squished flowers pressed between their chests.

Or perhaps they're both waiting, stuck on different sides of the tube, a guitar slung over Niall's shoulders and books and papers filling Zayn's scrawny arms, only to collide when they step out and walk into each other. And then their destination is reached as Niall struggles to grip the scattering pages in the air and Zayn's still entranced on the pale boy looming over him, only to find the feeling's mutual when Niall stops with an arm reached towards Zayn, face resembling awe in its crimson shade.

No matter what, in Niall's head, someone waited, someone pined, whether unconsciously or aware; and deeper in the remnants of his mind he always imagined them getting back together, requiting and falling back into their routine.

But not like this.

Not when Niall wasn't prepared, would _never_ be prepared, not when it came to Zayn.

And _Zayn_. He was standing there, he was _there_. And four lone years suddenly shattered in Niall's head. They broke and fell like thick shards of glass, too sharp for his dwindling composure. They were scratching and tearing at his control that he's worked so hard on.

He must've been staring for a while, too long, because Michael is by his side, then. And he's speaking words to Niall, he's sure of it; Niall can hear his voice churning in his head but he can't put the vowels and syllables in correct order to make sense of them.

Zayn's staring back at him, and Niall's still too preoccupied to decipher his countenance, but he's _there_.

 _He's **there**. He's **there**. He's **there**_ , is a running mantra in his head.

Niall's suddenly used to him _not_ being _there_ , and it takes him a moment to look up at Michael, to read his mouth forming a concerned question. And of course he is, Niall's showed him a picture of Zayn here and there. And he's not aware of it, but Michael remembers the drunken nights Niall slurred over Zayn, showed him pictures on his phone of them two.

It all makes Niall shake his head, forming a grateful smile, and he speaks for the first time, "Nah, m'good, Mikey. Thanks, though," he ushers him off. He looks to the floor, inhales to prepare himself before he's greeted with Zayn; it's a wonder how Zayn didn't leave the place yet.

"Hi," he smiles, like he's a customer. And he technically is, so it makes Niall a bit more comfortable, more relaxed because this is his territory here. "Hey there, how may I take your order?"

"I didn't know you worked here," is all he says, and Niall's already looking down at the cashier in front of him, pretending to punch in buttons because he doesn't know if Zayn meant that in a good or bad way. But _voila, I'm working here!_ he thinks.

He just nods, keeps his face stoned as he fixes the cap on his head.

This is not how he wanted to see him, if he even wanted to see him again.

"Um. Yeah. Been working here for a while," he laughs. _Four years_ , he thinks, still looking at the virtual screen in front of him.

"I didn't know," he repeats softer, and Niall definitely knows that tone. It's discomfort, bordering on disturbed.

"So what would you like? Or are you going to leave now?" he clips. It's way more harsher than he planned, but he already said it and it got his message across.

Zayn looks taken aback momentarily. He's blinking surprisingly and cocking his head back.

"Niall," he laughs, but it's hurt more than anything else. "Niall, come on, it's. It's _me_. I know... I know we might've--"

"Hi, Zayn," he whispers. He doesn't want to do this here; he doesn't want to do it _ever_ , honestly. So he'll drop it, drown in Zayn's presence instead. (He's still convulsing with the knowledge that he's _there_. He doesn't think the effect will way off anytime soon; not as long as he _stays_ there.) There's a genuine smile on Niall's face, and the hand that was gripping his elbow tightly is by his side. He's sure color is appearing all over his face, and he's more positive than anything else that if Zayn still remembers his quirks and habits, he can tell why the sudden blush is present; Niall prays on his life and everything he loves that he forgot.

"Hi," Zayn breathes suddenly, like all the pent-up unresolved emotions have dissipated. He's smiling, too. The real soft kind and Niall instantly recalls six other times he brought that smile upon his face. He can sit down and name all the times but it'll take too long and too much mental capacity. "Hey, Niall, um," he clears his throat. "I'll have two..." he looks around, looks towards the door before he shrugs and turns back, "I'll have two, um. Two lattes. Nothing fancy," he smirks.

God, he's so beautiful. And he could've came back when Niall was married with children by his feet, and Niall would still feel as enamored as he is now. He can't take it, which is why he rushes if that would complete his order and when he asks if it's for here or to go--

"Here," Zayn nods, hands in his slacks' pockets. He's wearing a suit, one of those tailor-made-customized-half-of-Niall's-salary type of suits. Zayn looks _good_ in it, he does, but it's not the Zayn Niall fell in love with which makes it hurt more and he didn't even think that was possible.

"What's funny?" Zayn asks, amused as he finds Niall chuckling to himself, and Niall only shakes his head, realizing he was laughing at himself.

"Nothing," he murmurs, wishing Zayn could just leave because he can't be in his proximity without wanting to touch _something_. Either his hair or his face or his lips or his hands or

Just something. He'll take anything.

Zayn pays and Niall goes to make him his drinks, and it's so formal. And even back when they first _met_ they weren't _formal_. And they met nine years ago, almost a decade, and no one's ever made Niall lose his track of...well, _everything_ ever. And Niall finds that ridiculous and so, so sad. Because he doesn't want to feel like this. He's paid his dues, he believes. He's suffered enough to last the rest of his life and just when he thought it couldn't hurt any more.

"Mate, what the fuck?" Michael hisses when they're out of earshot. His eyes are bulging, the green almost disappearing with the width of his pupils and any other time Niall would laugh. But he can't. His muscles are locked and he can't even bring himself to smile when he looks towards him.

"I don't know," he whispers. His eyes are tearing up but he allows himself this moment of patheticalness. He deserves it. He wouldn't care if he balled up in a corner but Zayn's standing there casually, rings-adorned hands still in pockets, like he has all the time in the world.

Niall wishes he didn't.

"Mike, I don't know what the fuck is going on but he's here and," he gulps, doesn't even know what he was going to say as he squirts the whipped cream on top. He unconsciously adds a dose of french vanilla because that's what Zayn always drank it with. He doesn't notice until afterwards, though. He's already fucked up, anyway.

"Do you want me to tell him to leave?" Michael asks softly, and Niall looks up to find him serious, one arm bracketing them in the corner. For a split second Niall wishes he could have fallen for Michael, would have fallen for pale eyes and everchanging color hair and solemn voice. He's straight, and Niall would've known where he stood with him. But then he cringes because he's straight himself with a Zayn-exception and it'll be too weird.

"I'm good," he smiles, hopes it's real on his face. "I got this, right? I'm a big boy." Michael chuckles quietly, pats Niall's shoulder as he walks away.

"Yeah, you got this Nialler. You the man."

"I'm the man," he repeats to himself lowly, only stopping when he gives the drinks to Zayn. Their hands don't touch, and Niall's grateful, doesn't know what he'd do if that happened; probably cry hysterically and climb over the counter onto Zayn and never let him go while the lattes spilled between them, in that respectful order. "Here you go," he beams, proud that he's externally handling this better than he thought. "Don't know how you're gonna finish them two, but," he shrugs, "I don't doubt you."

"Oh, they're not both for me, silly. One's for you."

"What?" he breaks, gripping the counter to prevent tipping over.

"I have," Zayn looks to his watch, "twenty mintues to spare." Then he jerks his head towards the corner of the cafe, like Niall's going to automatically follow.

He doesn't, instead waits a few heartbeats to gather his internal organs that are sprawled on the floor and _then_ walks steadily. He's walking over to Zayn when Ashton comes out of the restroom, and he looks in their direction, smirks and gives a catcall, unaware _who_ Zayn is. And Niall burns darker, would cry if Michael didn't instantly _accidentally_ spill a bottle of water in Ashton's path, making him sputter his call as he lands on his ass. Niall breathes a bit better then, mentally thanks Michael as he comes around the register to coo sarcastically at Ashton, seeming like he's helping when Niall knows he's not.

He looks at Zayn after he's seated, how comfortable he is in his own skin, laid back as he owns the place. Niall knows he currently has the means to buy the shop they're in, knows he already owns Niall in the bunch.

"So," Zayn starts, hands behind his head. The movement causes his grey blazer to ride up, showing his white button-up shirt pressed along the contours of his abdomen. Niall would drool shamelessly if he could pull his brain out of its frazzled state. But he can't, which is why he stares longingly as Zayn peers across the room. With the lapsed silence Niall looks down at his own outfit, a tattered beige excuse of a top and a caffeine stain on his green apron atop it. At least his jeans are clean, because his sneakers are more black than white at this point.

"Niall?"

Niall looks up, only to find Zayn staring back at him, aiming a curved smile of amusement. It's so pretty, is the thing. Niall's been single for most of four years and openly gawked at every single pretty thing that's crossed his path. And yet none of it could compete with Zayn's lazy grin at the moment, how the corners quirk up just enough to have Niall's skin flair hyperbolically.

Niall hums in question, letting Zayn know he has his full attention. (He's had his full attention for years, actually.) (Pathetically.)

"I asked how are you?" he speaks softly, leaning towards the table to stare more closely at Niall. The blond senselessly moves back, just enough that Zayn's eyes are more dark brown than gold. Just enough that he can answer without feeling like he's gripped around the neck by an invisible force.

"I'm good," he smiles. The steamy beverage in front of him is dull and taking up unwanted space. Niall doesn't even drink coffee often, but the smoke wafting above the cup holds his gaze as he continues. "Been doing things," he says nonsensically before asking Zayn the same question.

"Been doing things," he gently mocks, a confident smirk on display. And they're playing a game, an unspoken game that Niall's not in on. One he doesn't even want to play.

"What brings you here, anyway?" he asks as friendly as possible, leaning down to drink a hearty sip from the cardboard cup. It brings him closer to Zayn, and with the cup against his lip, blue eyes look up to find a gold pair locking deeply with his.

Niall doesn't want to be there, doesn't even want Zayn _there_.

"Responsibilities," Zayn shrugs. "Work-related duties."

 _I know what you do for a living_ , Niall thinks. _I found out from my best friend years ago and I still can't believe it_.

No matter how much Zayn loved Yaser, no matter how willingly he went on mandatory trips, he didn't like that career. Zayn never liked the idea of owning a company, of being limited to other activities because you were weighed down by this sole profession. Niall knew Zayn never planned on taking partnership with his father. He was present when Yaser needed him, but that's it.

And now he sat across Niall four years later with an occupation he never wanted. Niall didn't know how to feel about it, didn't know what was left of the man he still loved. It must've been a lot. A fucking whole bunch. Like, zettagrams of space.

He still loved his hair, jet black and still so shiny, so healthy and full. He loved his eyebrows, ever presently thick and unmanageable yet still kempt. Eyes that never lost their brilliance, never lost their grip on Niall. He loved his nose, how it was a prominent factor that gave Zayn's Pakistani traits away. His mouth that only perfected its pout with time and his jawline that Niall never got enough of, would run his lips over until they stung under his bristles of hair. He loved his neck and his chest and his tattoos and his arms down to his hands that currently--

Currently held a significant ring that wasn't _there_ four years ago.

Currently held all of Niall's attention.

Currently made the world stop and caused Niall's lungs to collapse in on themselves.

"You're," Niall blurts, doesn't look away.

_You're here._

_You're alive and you own a business._

_You're married and I find out like this._

"Niall?" His voice is too soft, too cautious. Niall looks up to find he's nervous. He doesn't look confident for once, more desperate, like he's choking on his tongue. "Niall, it's not--"

"Why did you buy me a drink?" he laughs, but his tone wavers, like a rough wind disrupting the sea's surface. "Like," he looks away, smiles out the window, "Why are you even here? Why haven't you--"

"I'm engaged."

And because Niall's disorganized and fucked up in the head, that only makes it worse. It makes him laugh like he was choking on water. They were one step away from engagement, practically engaged already. They planned on a Thursday for a Friday wedding and today was Saturday and Niall never hated the weekend so much. So, fucking, much.

"Congratulations," Niall nods. He's acting so childish, even he knows. But he's kept everything in for so long. And if this is the last time he and Zayn see each other he wants it to be honest, wants it to be raw; and shamefully, he wants Zayn to get affected, to go back home and contemplate his engagement with his. . . his fiance. Or fiancee. Niall doesn't know which one is worst.

So he gets up, politely excuses himself with the excuse he has work to do when Zayn grips his forearm, keeps a steady grip as his eyes bore into Niall's, trying to send understanding in heavy doses. But all Niall _understands_ is the hot hand on him, a hand that he's spent time after time after time worshipping for its abilities.

That hand animatedly drew him one yellow-dimmed afternoon, on a Monday. That hand caressed his face and mapped his body. That hand was in his mouth, in him in other ways that he _refuses_ to think about. That hand performed on someone else, someone not _him_.

"Niall," he sighs when the blond unconsciously jerks away from him, and the same hand goes to rub Zayn's forehead exhaustedly. "Niall, this is not. I didn't-- Jesus, I just wanted to talk--"

"Niall, we can go home now," Michael says out of nowhere. "C'mon, I always walk you." He's leaning by the entrance door, work-attire apron vanished with his arms crossed. His face is menacing, and Niall's unsure and a bit afraid as he thinks _why_ for a second when he realizes it's pointed at Zayn. And Zayn's still looking at Niall to notice.

Niall doesn't have to leave for another two hours. And Michael certainly does not ever walk him home. But he's glaring at Zayn like if he so much as takes another step towards Niall he'll rip his head off. Niall's grateful, he is, but he doesn't know his deal, doesn't know why Michael's vividly cross with Zayn when Niall put himself in this predicament all that time ago. (But Michael's witnessed firsthand how Niall handled the breakup and the pining. He's witnessed Niall crying because Zayn would talk to Katie and Louis and even Maura but _not me, Mikey, and I fucking want to die so much_ repeatedly. He witnessed what he went through, and he's witnesssing what Niall's going through now.)

"C'mon," he spits when Niall doesn't move.

"Going, Michael, just," he breathes, fidgeting with his apron to take it off. He can take it home with him, so he just folds it under his arm and stares at his feet for a moment before staring at Zayn. "It was nice seeing you. Really. I'm not kidding, okay? And I meant it when I said congrats," he chokes out, proud his voice doesn't shake.

Zayn looks broken.

"Niall--"

"Please don't make this harder." Niall squeezes his eyes shut, wants to die and reincarnate as a plant or a dust mote. He just doesn't want to be there, doesn't want to be human, doesn't want to be Niall ever again. "I gotta go, Zayn, don't make me say something I'll torture myself with."

Zayn does let him go, and Niall stops himself from picking up on its double meaning. Zayn lets him go with strong reluctance, but he slouches back in his chair and looks at the table in front of him, tenses his jaw and nods stiffly.

Niall's never walked away from Zayn feeling as shitty as he does.

 

  
Niall's closer to thirty than twenty and he's never felt so out of control in his life, _of_ his life.

He's home alone, after finding out via Michael that Paul let him leave early, and he doesn't know what to do.

Occasionally, he'd play guitar. He has an acoustic standing by the living room television that he used to teach Theo on. He remembers Theo sitting between his legs with a guitar strapped in front of him as tiny fingers strummed the cords under Niall's order.

He'd cook himself something, something fried or steamed or microwaved. Something scolding when it touched his mouth as he watched _Wilfred_ reruns. Sometimes Michael came over after his shift with Ashton, sometimes he'd text Louis to stop by. Or he'd fall asleep on the sofa and wake up the next day sometime around noon.

Mostly he'd write with the guys, would write until their wrists hurt and everyone's slumped around the room. He'd call Katie in the middle of it because she always gushed over Luke (despite his apparent homosexuality) and Luke and she would talk on the phone because he grew a (strictly platonic) liking for her also. As they worked among instruments and white paper, they'd either write profusely until their _songs_ gave birth to songs, or had books open with the impression of working hard.

But today Niall wants to be alone, wants to pull at his hair as if the loose hair follicles will take their awkward reunion with them. He wants to tear at his clothes until the shredded pieces are indistinguishable as he lays naked. He feels bare, feels bare and stripped of every promise he was given or made.

The light in the kitchen is on, so is the lamp in the living room just a walkway apart. The lights are on in many spots but he feels drenched in darkness, like his eyes were plucked out and he was shoved into a room, making him manually learn his surroundings.

His phone buzzes, and he looks down to find a text from Louis.

 _Wat did you do? ??_ it reads

 _????_ Niall sends, wishing he was more confused than he currently is. Louis' calling him before he can dwell on it too much, and he speaks before Niall goes to open his mouth.

"Zayn's bashing my ear in with shit I can barely understand, but I'm hearing your name every other word and I grasped that he's seen you. What did you do?" he greets.

Niall hasn't talked to him in a little over three weeks, not a text nor snapchat. And he's not going to deal with Louis' shit.

"Hi to you, too. I'm doing well, thanks for asking. And I don't know what you're talking about, but I didn't do anything."

"Niall," he sighs, like he's fed up with Niall's bullshit. Niall feels the same, but he doesn't need Louis on his case at the moment. "Niall, listen--"

"Lou, if you're gonna give me shit, I really don't need it, man. I'm saying this as nice as possible. Scream at me all you want some other time, but not today. Please." It shuts Louis up momentarily before he speaks with a careful voice.

"Niall, what happened?"

_I'm in love with a man I left years ago._

_He arrived at my job and I looked like shit._

_He bought me coffee and it only hurt me more._

_He's engaged and I found out by his ring._

_I'm in love with a man who's in love with someone else._

"A lot of shit happened," he whispers, doesn't try to wipe the tear that's spilling over. He hasn't cried in so long and if he's given the opportunity to cry in a vacant house with his best friend on the line, he'll take it.

He doesn't tell Louis every detail but he tells him the jist of what matters, and Louis' quiet for a long time; longer than he's ever been silent with Niall.

"I thought you knew," he eventually mutters.

"Knew? Knew what? That he's _engaged_?"

"He's been engaged for almost a year, Niall."

"And you didn't tell me?" he asks, looking up at the ceiling. "Fuck, Louis, you have no obligation to, but. _Fuck_ ," he screams again, pressing a fist over his eyes. "S'like Harry getting engaged and you expect me not to tell you. Come _on_ , Louis, I'm your best friend," he laughs disturbingly.

"You are, Ni. I just didn't know how to bring this up without.... without _this_ happening."

"How long have you known?"

"Niall--"

"No, how long you knew, Louis?"

"....I knew a few weeks before he proposed."

Niall's lived by the proverb _Expect the Unexpected_ since problems between him and Zayn started, all those years ago. It's ingrained in his head to the point it takes a _lot_ to surprise him, to make him lose his focus and leave him speechless. But he did not, would have never, expected this.

"Niall, believe me, I didn't--"

"I'm gonna go. Don't know, might shower or something."

"I'll be over soon, yeah? I'm stopping by in a little and you can't tell me no."

Niall's slumped on the sofa, staring at a blank television with a storm about to rage outside.

"Okay," he whispers. He wants to be alone, wants to wallow and cry and curse himself for being all the wrong that's in the world. But he needs someone, and he knows _he_ won't be there.

 

  
Niall goes to open the door for Louis fifteen minutes later. He's showered and is wearing his oldest pair of pajama pants when he opens the door.

And it's Zayn. Zayn's standing outside his door with a matted suit, black hair heavy and drenched from the rain.

It's not the sappy shit Niall wants right now.

"What do you want?" he bites, doesn't hide how unimpressed he is. He doesn't invite Zayn in, either. And in any other time in his life, he'd jump onto him, cry and admit his undying love. It's all painted perfectly in his head. But in reality there are bags under his pale eyes and his blonde hair is hanging limp across his forehead and he's positive his garments are so old Zayn saw him in them years ago.

It still boggles Niall's mind, honestly; how he measures the last moment between him and Zayn in years.

Zayn's shivering in the cold. _Serves you right_ , Niall thinks _. Your fucking suit is for appearance only_. Zayn opens his mouth, closes it, swallows and runs a timid hand through his hair.

"I don't know," he admits finally, looking at the wet ground. "I'm leaving and I didn't want that to be our last conversation."

"Well, then. Hi. It was nice seeing you. Goodbye."

"Niall, don't be like this, please."

 _I don't want to be like this!_ Niall is screaming in his head. _I'd give anything not to be like this._

"I'm not being like anything, Zayn. I'm doing fine." _I'm doing the best that I can._

"Can I come in?" he asks exasperatedly, ignoring Niall.

"I'm alone," Niall blurts, tense under his skin. He's alone, he lives alone; and he can't be alone with Zayn in a house that'll only scream their insults back at them. "I live alone, so..."

"I know."

 _Since when did you know?_ he wants to ask.

_Who told you?_

_What do you want?_

_Why did you let me go?_

Instead Niall just turns around, walks further into the house with the door open. If Zayn follows him in, whatever. If Zayn leaves without another word, whatever. If Niall wants to cry and bang his head repeatedly to erase nine years of his life, _whatever_.

"What do you want?" he asks again when he's standing next to the back of the sofa, facing Zayn who's shuffling out of his blazer. Niall wants to stop him, wants to twist his hands in pain and strap the blazer back on because he doesn't want Zayn to get comfortable. Zayn's walked into this house at a time they were together, a time that's _not_ this time. Niall doesn't want to be left with more nostalgic memories.

"I want to talk. That's it." He must see the look on Niall's face, because when the shoulders of the blazer are tucked into his elbows he raises it back on.

"That's just lovely."

"You're more impudent than I remember."

"And you're still here!" he retorts. "God, don't you get it? I want you to leave!"

"Well," he shrugs slowly, always so calmly, "I'm not leaving on a bad note."

"Didn't stop you the last time," Niall hums. And everything stops. Everything shatters too soon, and Niall's in love with the fire burning in him, finally in love with something that's not the man across from him.

"Excuse me?" Zayn clips, an eyebrow curving angrily and Niall's drinking all of this in. _Yes, yes, yes_ , is playing like gospel in his head.

"You heard me," he speaks evenly. His hands are balled into fists by his side, his chest is heaving too slowly, and he's reeling Zayn in right where he wants him. "I'm not going to beat around the bush, Zayn. I'm not going to act like you, like all that shit is swiped under the rug because wake the fuck up, it's _not_."

"I don't have time for this." He's walking away, and Niall's laughing because he knows just what to say, when to say it; he's taking advantage of Zayn for the first time and he's too infuriated to care.

"Well, you certainly must have time if you're here. With me. Alone."

"We're adults, Niall." He's shaking, Niall can tell from across the room. "I expected a lot from you. I prepared myself for this day, but I did not expect this. You're better than this."

"What the fuck do you want, Zayn?" he screams. It's the first time someone raises their voice, and the silence that follows is too thick to breathe in. Niall's heard of the saying about tension being so thick you could cut it with a knife. And at that moment, he feels the air getting heavy. He feels everything a bit more sluggish with a slight resistance against his movements.

"What do you _want_ , Zayn? If you're going to continue throwing shit at me, leave. I mean it, leave. I've been doing so much better without you and--"

"I know that's a lie," Zayn smirks. He's back with the upperhand. Niall's itching and he doesn't have the upperhand in his own house. "I know all about your episodes, Niall. The crying," he starts to count with his fingers. "The screaming, getting drunk, avoiding friends, Harley, sleeping at my house--"

"That was our house! That was our fucking house and you just left!"

"There was nothing for me there!" Zayn screams. He's louder than Niall and it's hitting Niall repeatedly. "You just left! You left and you expected me to stay there? _You_ left _me_!"

"You let me go!" Niall screams, turning around before Zayn sees his face. He's turning more red from embarrassment because he didn't know what else to say. Zayn's lashing the truth and he feels so small in his own house.

"Oh, my fu-- Are you serious, Niall?" he booms, steps growing closer to Niall who's cornered in the kitchen. "Did you just say I let you go?!" His skin is redder than Niall's, white shirt sticking to his frame from the rain and frizzy hair sticking up from the static atmosphere between them.

He's still the most beautiful person Niall's seen.

"I've begged in your face!" Zayn continues, punching the wall for emphasis. "I put my heart on the line! I offered anything and fucking _everything_ and you just stared ahead! You barely even _acknowledged_ me and I fucking cried and pleaded _over and over and over again!_ " he screeches, a vein punching down his forehead. "So don't come with that shit that I let you go! You let me go, and I'm still trying to make the fucking peace!" he heaves, slowing down. "I'm still," he looks around, like he's searching for words as he pulls on his hair, "I'm still _trying_ here, okay? I'm friends with all of my other exes and--"

"We cannot be friends," Niall says behind his teeth, accent thickening with his heated state. "Don't you even dare say we can be friends, you know we can't," he jumps at Zayn.

"Why not, Niall? Why the fuck not? Tell me, come on!"

Niall's backed up against the refrigerator, hands balled behind his back as Zayn looms over him. Niall's holding his breath, because if he inhales just one lungful of air it'll be Zayn's, and he doesn't want that, doesn't want any part of him, wants to shed the layers of himself that still inhabit Zayn.

"Come on!" Zayn yells, punching the table beside them. Niall's sure that's going to bruise later on. "Fucking tell me! If I'm wasting my time here tell me so I can go!"

"You're engaged!" Niall mindlessly screeches, more out of fear than courage. "You're engaged with someone else and I'm not going to act like I'm okay with that!" Zayn backs away, takes a few steps back in his worn-out state and rubs his uninjured hand across his forehead, like he knows he's found the problem.

"You're engaged and it's not me," Niall whispers, feels his chest jumping with its attempt at breathing normally. "And I can't handle that, Zayn."

"Niall, don't."

"No. You asked. You fucking asked, all right?" He's back to yelling, his own vein making its presence on his face. "You knew I loved you before." He swallows, keeps a level head and dares himself to _not_ look away. "You know I love you now, and that doesn't even matter anymore."

"It _doesn't_ matter anymore, Niall," he mutters, keeping a hand over his forehead, other hand on his hip.

Niall imagines an imaginary dripping of water from his sink, goes over to peer down the sink as the words wash over him coldly. He knew that, he fucking knew that more than anybody. He knew his stupid love for Zayn didn't matter, that it was just that: stupid. He knew that.

But God dammit, nothing prepared him to hear those words pour out of Zayn's mouth. To listen to them take form between them and latch onto Niall as if he wasn't already weighed down by everything else.

"I already knew that, Zayn," he breathes, grips onto the sink even tighter. The stress on his white knuckles is keeping the tears at bay, keeping his throat from closing up obscenely. "I didn't say that for a speech, for you to deny it. I knew that already. I fucking _knew_ that."

"No," he says gently behind Niall. He sounds closer than before. "No, I don't think you do. I don't want to hurt you, Ni. I don't. That's not my intention."

"I said I got it," he snaps, turns his head to peer at Zayn from his peripheral.

There's packed silence, a bag of stilled air that's splattered across the room, sucking in every valid noise. Niall can't even pretend to stop the phantom leaking faucet. It's pouring profusely outside to the point the trees are swaying with the wet winds, tipping over slightly that it leans with the current. At this point the electricity would've shut off, and Niall thanks the higher forces that the lights haven't--

His pupils reflexively dilate from the darkness, and the only sources of light are the scattered unlit candles in the house. Niall curses as he goes to turn them on, wishes that Zayn left in the silence but he's still there.

He wishes, and wishes, and gives his life to whatever deity that'll take him, for this moment in his life to end. He sits at the sofa, hands over his face as he prays to someone, or something that'll spare him.

The dark is too intimate, too quiet and hyper aware of tensed emotions. Niall wants to dissipate with the ugly motion in the room, believes it's so tangible he _can_ if he stays still long enough.

"Niall--"

"Zayn, just go," he sighs, rubs the back of his neck comfortingly. He's alone and he's been alone for four years and he can be alone for another four. And another four. And four more after that.

He just wish he didn't have to.

There's a gingerbread-scented candle in front of the blond, the caramel wax glowing from the moving flame atop. There's a happy gingerbread man on its red wrapper, waving joyfully at Niall.

"I knew you'd get like this," Zayn admits. It's hushed while he says this, hushed as the flame flickers in front of Niall, hushed as the blond looks up to peer at Zayn questionably.

"W-...what?"

"Before you even left, I knew we were going to break up. I knew the moment you boarded that plane that it was only going to get uglier. I knew it, I knew you. I knew how you got with distance. I fucking knew it and I still let you leave." He's rambling to himself, pushing black hair off his forehead as the sparse light illuminates fragments of him. The rings on his fingers, the line of his jaw, the shine on his lips. Niall's trying to keep up with what he's talking about.

"Zayn?"

"I _knew_ it," he suddenly laughs harshly to no one, making Niall jump. "When I offered to go with you, every time I wanted to come visit you. Every single time you pushed me away. And I saw right through it. And I stayed there like a _fucking_ idiot, Niall," he barks, looking down at him. "I tried to do everything in my power and you stepped all over me so don't you dare say you got it!"

"What are you saying?" Niall asks fearfully, standing up slowly so Zayn doesn't seem as big. He's still taller, even from across the coffee table between them Niall feels small in his own house.

"You know I got a little tiny tattoo for you," Zayn smiles, walks back and forth. He's losing it and Niall doesn't know where to look, where to put his arms or feet. But he stands there and looks at Zayn in fear. Zayn continues, gripping his right forearm, "I got a little shitty tattoo for you, _for you_. And you never even seen it. I thought it would've made you stay and I'm the fucking dickhead to have thought that you were even still _there!_ ”

“Zayn, what are you saying?” Niall asks desperately, going to stand closer to Zayn, if only to grip his attention enough so the older man could look at him. Niall instantly regrets it, then; regrets screaming in the first place, regrets opening the door in the first place, regrets walking into his class in the first place.

There are fat, wet streams going down Zayn’s face. The little fire flame shines off them and bounces in Niall’s vision. They’re evident and popping off his face guiltily.

“You were always _there!_ ” Zayn screams, not hiding the crack in his voice. “I’ve always believed you’d _be_ there with me, for me! Nothing else mattered than you being _there_ , Niall!” he rasps before breathing harshly, throwing a sharp finger in Niall’s direction. “And then one day you weren’t, you fucking _weren’t_ and I had to learn how to be alone. You were one of the most permanent things in my _life!_ My fucking life! I became so dependent on you and I didn’t _care!_ Didn’t care until I _had_ to, until I had to fucking _fix_ myself!” he screams.

Niall’s screaming in his head, but they’re more pleads. _I can relate!_ he’s screaming. _I can relate, please stop crying! Please stop crying, I can relate! Please stop crying Please stop crying Please stop fucking crying!_

Niall’s witnessed Zayn in countless moments of disarrary that he’s labeled his levels of stress. He’s witnessed him too zoned out that he couldn’t finish a planned lesson, had to force the tan man away from his desk to go lay down or eat. He’s witnessed him so infuriated with a student or season finale that the blond had to steer clear for a little, only coming back with Zayn’s favorite novel or kisses down his neck. He’s witnessed him close to tears when one of his favorites artists died, one the man had spent a few days with and texted here and there.

But he has never witnessed this. And he doesn’t want to. Would never fucking want to.

“Zayn,” he whispers, barely even _that_ , doesn’t want to make a noise. “Zayn, I. I know, what you mean, like.” He swallows, takes a miniscule step closer to him. “It can be that way again,” he pleads. He feels evil, feels disgusted with himself for trying to persuade Zayn in such an apparent vulnerable state. But he’s vulnerable, too. He’s suffered, too. And he doesn’t want anyone to suffer anymore. “You don’t. Don’t have to go, if.” He shudders, doesn’t notice he’s moving closer. Zayn looks broken this close with the light dancing over half his face. “You once told me I was the exception,” he gulps. “You. You said it was only _me_ , remember? Like. Zayn,” he begs, doesn’t know if Zayn is even looking at him. “You _don’t_ have to go!”

“I remember,” he croaks, tensing his jaw. A hand sweeps down his face harshly, smearing the tears as he breathes unsteadily. “I was telling the truth when I said all of that, Niall, I was. But it’s just that. Was. The past.”

“ _Zayn_ \--”

“I don’t get it,” Zayn shrugs to no one. “Before you, I couldn’t tolerate people like you. I _hated_ when a disruptive student or. An arrogant customer came along, I _hated_ it. And then you came,” he smiles in memory, watching the candle flicker. “You, with your tendency to ask a _stupid_ question in the middle of my story, and. I only supported it. I _wanted_ you to keep asking questions.” He’s smiling painfully now, like he’s fighting with himself. “You would talk with your mouth full and laugh obnoxiously and just, be downright comfortable just about anywhere. And I _loved_ it. I loved it.”

“Zayn, none of that doesn’t--”

“And then you left,” he hisses, anger jutting his eyebrows down. “And I couldn’t. Couldn’t cope with anybody. _Anybody_ and--” he shudders, turns away and keeps a hand over his face. “--I hated it all even more.”

“Do you want to leave?” Niall brings himself to ask, brings himself to step maybe just a few inches closer. Just enough that he can see the individual flecks of Zayn’s facial hair. Zayn doesn’t say anything. “Do you want to _stay_ or-- I don’t know, Zayn,” he shrugs helplessly. “I don’t know what I’m doing anymore, that’s all I’m sure of.”

“I have to leave,” Zayn sighs, blinking when the lights turn back on.

The lights stutter, only staying vibrant and solid every few heartbeats

“Stay,” he whispers. He suddenly wishes it was completely dark, so Zayn couldn’t see how desperately he wants him to stay in between the dark flickers. “Zayn,” he begs, lets the name ring throughout the room as he grips Zayn’s arm. “ _Zayn_ ,” he continues, the new physical contact having him hyperventilate under his own skin.

The blazer is damp, cold under Niall’s hand but it only makes him hold on tighter, like he’ll transfer his own warmth. His fidgeting causes Zayn to snap his gaze to where they’re touching, red mouth parted slightly when he peers up at Niall. _Please_ , Niall’s saying, doesn’t know if it’s mentally or verbally.

“The last time I stayed was the worst night of my life,” Zayn speaks, gently moving away from Niall.

Niall’s sure Zayn moved his mouth. He’s sure Zayn spoke and his voice is playing in Niall’s head, but the blond is positive he heard wrong. He’s positive Zayn’s tongue messed up on a certain word or his brain is a jumbled mess of their current dilemma to piece things correctly. He’s positive something went wrong because if he accepts what Zayn _seemed_ to say was true, something else in him will break. And he’s _positive_ he won’t be able to piece that part together.

“I don’t--” Niall shakes where his hand drops by his side, following Zayn where the man’s leaning over the wall, back facing Niall. “I don’t even know-- Zayn, what the _fuck_ \--”

“The last time I stayed we fucked,” Zayn blurts, doesn’t move a muscle. Niall only grips his own elbows, hunches into himself as he’s whipped with the memory. A memory he doesn’t like to play often. It wasn’t one of their best nights, he knows. But it wasn’t... It didn’t make Niall want to forget about it. That was their last night together, something he might not ever get again if this tension continues.

“I know,” he whispers, unsure of the big deal.

“We had sex, Niall,” he bites, turning to look at him deadly. “We made love often, almost all the time. We made love or had sex. Rough sex, slow sex, unprotected sex. Sex here and sex there,” he continues. Niall wants to say _I get it. I get it, you can stop now_. Only he _doesn’t_ get it and he’s overwhelmed with erotic memories that’s currently disabling him from making a coherent statement.

“That was the first time we’ve ever fucked,” Zayn whimpers, throwing an indignant hand between them. “That was a complete _fuck_ , for the first time. And I _never_ thought that’d happen. I never thought I was capable of treating you that way. Never thought you were capable of asking me to _do_ such a thing.”

Niall frowns, wants to hug Zayn for the man’s own benefit instead of his own.

“I just asked for--”

“You wanted me to hurt you!” he screams, trying to laugh it off. “You wanted me to _hurt_ you and I did! I fucking did! And it was only because you asked me to,” he whispers. “You’ve always had the upperhand. When it comes to you I’d do anything and I can’t-- That tore me _apart_ , Niall. For months I couldn’t--” he shudders a breath, closes his eyes tightly from the thought.

He speaks again, keeps his voice only above a whisper and looks at Niall helplessly.

“Did you honestly think I could _endure_ that? All of that? Did you stop to think the toll it’d all take on me, Niall? Did you even _stop_ to think about me?”

“Of course,” he immediately says, reaches a hand out before fisting it by his side. “All right, at that time, I didn’t. But you were everything to me, Zayn. I don’t think I can say that enough. It was always only you and--”

“There is no _only you!_ ” Zayn screams, cutting him off forcefully. Niall doesn’t continue after that, just gapes openly as blue eyes peer too big. “There’s no _forever_ , Niall. You’ve made that clear four years ago,” he sniffs.

“You don’t mean that.”

“Oh, but I do.”

“Shut up! You don’t mean that! Zayn, you _don’t_ mean that,” he fidgets, balling his fists tighter.

“I gave you everything.” Zayn punctuates every word, making sure they each register clearly so he doesn’t repeat himself. “I gave you everything I could and if that wasn’t enough... If that didn't," he struggles momentarily, looking around before facing Niall. "I have nothing left,” he shrugs mindlessly, like that wasn’t currently tearing Niall down.

“You’re enough,” Niall blubbers. “Even before, even now,” he breathes. “You’re fucking enough!”

“I’m sorry, but I can’t. I’m not going to put myself in that position again. I can’t do that to myself, Niall. What we had was so special, it was. But it was.”

“So that’s it? You’re leaving?”

Zayn smiles sadly, like he doesn’t want to hurt Niall but doesn’t know how else to respond.

Niall’s not there at the moment. He’s eight, oddly. He’s eight years old with tattered shorts as he sits next to Liam, his cousin pudgy around the face as they watch _Toy Story 2_. It’s at the part where Jesse realizes she has to go back into the box, and she’s gripping her red yarn of hair and is shaking her plastic head repeatedly, screaming _I won’t go back to the dark!_

Niall’s with Zayn again, trying to keep his feet on the ground as the epiphany hits him.

Zayn’s leaving, and he’s going back to the way he was before.

“Niall?” Zayn asks, reaching out a hand because Niall looks dizzy, looks ready to sway with the storm still raging outside.

“You’re leaving,” he says calmly, the total opposite of the turmoil inside him that’s worse than outside. He’s going to die, he’s sure of it. He’s going to go back to pining, to wishing for Zayn. But the difference is he’s had a chance. And the chance was blown up before he realized, four years before he realized. “Oh my God, you’re leaving,” he says to no one, absently turning around, walking away with no destination in mind.

“Niall, what’s going on?” He’s in front of Niall, gripping his shoulders. Niall only pushes him away, looks around frantically as he tries to look somewhere that Zayn hasn’t inhabited yet. “Niall, you’re scaring me. Please talk to me.”

“You’re leaving,” he slurs, hits his shoulder against the wall and stays there, hangs his head. He’s never been so scared in his life, scared of what tomorrow morning will bring him with this new raw moment in his life fresh in his mind. “Holy shit, you’re leaving,” he weeps, sliding down the wall and covering his face.

He repeats that over and over again, and Zayn stays there, gently trying to quiet him. There’s a time when Niall does quiet down, and Zayn lifts his chin with a finger, smiling apologetically as he tries with everything he has for Niall to understand. Zayn sounds broken, too.

“I was never meant to stay.”

 

 

Niall's proud of himself, fuck whoever disagrees. He doesn't go back to pining nor does he sulk in public. He's doing exceptionally well. (Expect Michael and Louis see a side of him they've never seen before.)

He gets to work on time and sweeps before Ashton arrives to do it and has regular customers' drinks ready before they get there. He wipes tables down before drops from beverages even touch the surface and keeps the radio on the Top 20 Pop station that even the elderly enjoy.

He's more smiles than before and greets the shittiest customer with a warm hello and even adds extra sugar in their expresso just for the hell of it. When it's time to empty the cashiers he's always the first one done, the currency flying swiftly through his hands as he counts in his head. He's the first one rolling everything together and putting the rest in place and making sure there's a fresh batch of dough ready for the next day.

He's one step ahead of Paul himself, which boggles the man's mind when Niall comes up to him out of nowhere to inform him of the multiple complaints on their new beverage and _I think we should cut down on the ginger, boss, 'cause it hides the flavor of the cinnamon and I believe if you offered it with a discount on our latest pastry sales will really skyrocket because_ and on and on, he continues.

He's ahead of his game, doesn't give a moment to sit down and think when he could be doing something productive instead.

"Mate, you've been leaving work later than necessary for a bit already. Maybe you should get out more, you know?" Michael offers, still unsure of what happened after that day he walked Niall home. He hasn't heard anything and Niall doesn't tell him. He thinks he would've by this point. (He hopes, honestly.)

They still write songs together and Niall's never thrown himself recklessly into their songs as much as he does now. The guys appreciate it, they love it, actually. This raw and poignant side to their melodies is soul-shattering and _that's what we want!_ But it's taking a toll on Niall and they can't pinpoint the problem. And even Calum notices, who doesn't give a rat's ass of anything except music and Luke most of the time. But there are late nights Niall's zoned out, in his little corner strumming away on his guitar with a furrowed eyebrow, and Calum would nudge whoever's closest to him and flick his head in the blond's direction, a question pursed on his mouth.

It's a day they're lounging around, after being informed that Paul's relocating to a bigger, better business that he's unable to tell, that Niall talks. He's drunk, is the thing. The power alcohol has over him is insurmountable.

"Who," he slurs, slowly closes his eyes as he leans his head back, "What guy even wears engagement rings anymore, anyway?"

"Men who are going to get married?" Luke genuinely asks, flushed in the face as Calum laughs loudly next to him, taking the bottle away from his boyfriend's pale hands.

"No shit," Ashton laughs, slumped with his head in Niall's lap. Niall doesn't even register his surroundings.

"Like, what guy wears an engagement ring? That's," he shakes his head, blinking repeatedly, "that's _so_ unnecessary."

"S'an engageMAN ring," Calum confirms, saying his cousin got one after proposing to his girlfriend, that it let people know he wasn't available.

"Stupid," Niall mutters, rubbing his forehead. "It's so stupid."

"Why you mention it? Wanna get married?"

"Zayn's getting married," he speaks evenly, looking at the empty glass in his hand.

Michael's the only one who doesn't react, just clenches his jaw and squeezes the empty plastic cup in his hand. The other three quirk an eyebrow, look at him with as much confusion they can muster in their intoxication. There's a series of questions, all similar, and Niall answers them all, feels like he's reading a sad, pathetic story to them.

He doesn't tell them everything, but it's enough that his throat's hoarse by the end, feels like he's swallowing sharp rocks when he chews a bite of cold pizza.

It's enough that leaves the four of them gaping nervously, even Michael who did _not_ know all of that. It's quiet, and now it seems like Niall's the only drunkard in the room.

"I didn't..." Luke starts, frowning with clarity, "I didn't even know you were gay."

Niall mulls that over, feels the roof of his mouth unpleasantly with his tongue.

"Gay for Zayn," he jokes, before abruptly laughing out loud. He's too drunk to notice he's the only one laughing.

When the quiet stretches too long Niall comes to focus slowly, sits up straighter and sighs when he realizes they're all looking at him like he's about to explode at any moment.

"I'm _fine_. Been fine me whole life, guys. Don't worry."

"You're not fine," Michael murmurs to no one. It's so low only Ashton next to him catches it.

"Isn't he pretty?" Niall hiccups, scrolling through his DropBox App as pictures upon pictures of a beautiful evident Middle-Eastern male comes into view. He clicks on one they took at Harry and Louis' engagement party. It was only them and Liam and Danielle and a few of Harry's friends who met Louis before. Niall remembers him and Zayn lounging in the balcony, how there was a crisp wind and Niall squirmed in Zayn's lap for the miniscule warmth he emitted before snapping several photos of them. In the picture Niall's nose is red, blue eyes squinting as Zayn gives a calm, lazy smile, hazel eyes open clearly and the tip of his fingers curling over Niall's coat-clad waist.

" _That's_ him?" Ashton asks incredulously, mouth dropped open.

"Gorgeous, I know," Niall sighs, passing the phone over and getting up to look for his notebook. Ashton peers down at the photo, takes every detail in because. Because-- That's the man he saw with Niall that day and--

Michael nods his head curtly, doesn't say anything when Ashton shoots his gaze to him. They share a mental conversation, curving eyebrows and gaping mouths until Michael nods again, and Ashton looks away, puts the phone on the coffee table and shuts his mouth tightly. Luke and Calum grab the phone next as Niall slumps into the sofa again, sighing loudly as he reviews the unrevised lyrics.

Luke's smart, very considerate and keeps his mouth shut. Calum's brash, doesn't think before he speaks.

"He's hot," he says, handing the phone over. "Shame. Could've invited him for an orgy."

" _Calum_ ," Luke stresses. The other two just bite their lips and pierce Calum with a scolding look. Niall only gently laughs, knows Calum doesn't mean harm and isn't the best with comfort, anyway.

"What did I say?" he mutters to Luke, looking surprised and horribly clueless. "I just thought I'd offer something because I'm sure he was a good lay--"

"You're such a _dick_ , Cal! Just shut up," Luke retorts, going to apologize to Niall when said blonde is already out of ears' reach, slung guitar over his frame and strumming the music notes on the wrinkled paper in front of him.

 

Getting to work the next day is a bit depressing.

Okay, it's really fucking depressing. It's the last week before Paul leaves, and Niall has a headache that can rival labor pains. (At least, he thinks.) He gets to work sluggishly, practically has a hunchback the whole way.

When he gets to work Ashton is already there, dumping the remaining piled dust into the bin when Niall checks in. It's already clean, every table spotless and shining from the rising sun.

"You're here annoyingly early," Niall chirps, but he still goes over to smack a sloppy kiss on his cheek and pat his back. Normally Ashton would chuckle or give him a fist bump. But today he just smiles quickly and brushes his hands over his khaki pants. It's odd, not his usual reply, but Niall doesn't blame him, knows it's a bitch getting up this early.

Michael gets there and their other coworker Nicki is working the drive thru when Niall notices something's.... off. Or set crooked.

It's when his scheduled time to depart (one he's neglected for weeks) comes that Michael and Ashton corner him, fold their arms over their chests and tower over him. At first Niall's confused, more confused than earlier because two of his good friends are blocking him from continuing his work. Then he's miffed when they don't answer his repeated question of _the fuck you want?_

"Um, hello? Can I please get back to what I was doing?" Michael and Ashton share a look, another one of their creepy-non-verbal-shitty looks that Niall's kind of annoyed with already, before looking down at Niall again. (Niall hates their Australian genes, hates they're tall as shit as he's still short and isn't going to grow anymore.)

"Look," Michael starts, before their demeanor changes into something more soft, less threatening. "Look, we just want to talk. We've scheduled to leave early also and _you're_ off work already."

"But I can still work," he deadpans, hosting a slightly horrific knowledge of what they're implying.

"You're coming and that's it," Michael finishes, turning around. Ashton looks between them before shrugging apologetically at Niall, following Michael. Niall does follow them out; he's not used to Michael being serious, knows he must've given it a lot of thought if he's still proceeding with... whatever _this_ is so faithfully.

They're at an arcade a few blocks down, buying a cup of gold coins and two large pizzas where Luke and Calum are already sat. Niall's never seen the four of them so serious at the same time.

"Did I call Zayn again?" he whispers helplessly to Michael sat next to him, frowns as the five of them eat silently. He'll die if he did. He hadn't talked to him in a few weeks and he knows that's not going to happen again. It hurts, it fucking bloody hurts more than he can put in words, more than he can bring himself to admit on paper. But he'd rather hurt than be humiliated.

"No, you didn't call him. But you told us everything. And I honestly think _everything_ ," he answers nicely, trying to give a hearty smile that fails when Niall immediately looks down at his plate.

"You're lying."

"He's not. You were drunk. We all were, but. . . Don't know, man. You're the only one who doesn't remember," Luke informs.

"I don't remember, either. If that helps," Calum shrugs, nudging his available foot against Niall's sneaker in a helpful gesture. "Luke told me the basics, though. Explains why you've been the way you are."

"I haven't been anything. And I seriously don't remember telling you guys. So can we please keep it that way?"

"We're not going to scold you, Ni," Ashton laughs, like it was hurtful Niall thought such a thing. "Jesus. You've been wrecked for weeks, months. And we couldn't do anything at all. And now that we got an insight on the problem we just want to help."

"I'm not a charity case, guys," Niall frowns at each of them individually. "I'm not breaking at the seams. I'm not breaking at _all_. Okay, I'm sad. But that's it. Don't make me feel like I can't handle shit on my own."

"You can. That's not what we're saying."

"You _are_. I'm not angry. Bothered, yes. But not angry. I appreciate your efforts, I do. But please don't make me feel like a dependent shit. I'm an adult and--"

"That doesn't mean anything," Michael interrupts. He looks tired, like he's dealt with this too much. But his eyes are sad and Niall realizes it's not all menacing. "You can be fifty years old and still heartbroken, Niall. Age means shit. You can overreact and cry and wallow all you want no matter how old you are, no matter how mature you are."

Niall feels cornered, they're ganging up on him at a time he needs them. If he's being honest, he does need their help. As pathetic and insecure as that sounds, he does. But he's not going to give into that when it's still possible to take care of himself, to stand tall without the aid of anybody. It hurts, too, and takes a lot of energy maintaining a normal composure. But he would never forgive himself if he falls into dependency again.

Michael leans in closer when it's silent for too long, speaking lowly into Niall's ear so the rest don't hear.

"I know you're sleeping around, Ni," he whispers kindly. _I'm single_ , Niall wants to say but Michael continues. "And I know they're not all girls."

Niall feels like a pendulum came from either side of him, smashed him into a mess of pulp. He feels the ground opening up to a limitless fall that's perpetually black and suffocating. He feels worse than he thought was humanely possible.

"I know you've relented to boys because girls aren't enough to stop you from thinking of him. I know they hurt you, and you never thought it _could_ hurt because Zayn was always so good to you."

Niall's tearing up, puts his hands over his face because he's ugly when he cries, uglier than ever when he's so vulnerable.

"I know," Michael breathes, like it's hard for him to say this. "I know sometimes, they're more than one, at the same time."

"Please stop," Niall whimpers, using the little strength he has to not shake with sobs; holding his breath to not make a noise.

"I _don't_ know how you feel. I don't know how your mind is working to help yourself, but," he swallows, puts a hand on Niall's shoulder when the blond shudders solemnly, "This isn't healthy, Niall. It's not."

"Who told you?" Niall cries.

"Does it matter?" he says instead, knowing Louis wouldn't like their little confidential idea being told to the victim in all of this. Michael knows that Louis unfortunately arrived in the middle of Zayn and Niall's rant that stormy day, bided his time in his car until Zayn walked out with his head down. Michael knows Louis purposely knocked on Niall's door an hour after that, blamed the storm for the late arrival before innocently asking Niall why the blond's eyes were bloodshot when he was in a slightly better shape over the phone.

Niall doesn't know that, doesn't know Louis was the one who closed his house door after the two exes took their heated argument into the kitchen. Michael doesn't know how Niall would take that, neither does Louis. So he can't tell him that.

Not when Niall's currently crying freely, not hiding back desperate sobs and not paying mind to the three frowns sat across them.

 

 

Katie starts coughing up blood for the first time in front of Niall.

They're in Maura's living room, their mother cooking them beef stew with fresh baked bread when she coughs once.

Niall looks over to her curiously, sees her settle back under his arm calmly and continue watching _Insidious_. It's when they laugh when Tiny Tim starts singing that she coughs again, sits up straighter to cough into the crease of her elbow. 

Niall thinks she's close to coughing out a lung at this point, patting her back firmly when she pulls her arm back and dark scarlet splotches color her cream sleeve.

"Ma," Niall alarms, getting up when Katie pulls him back down, fear in her eyes.

"Don't tell her," she hisses earnestly. "She'll just freak out and she's been so calm lately."

Niall doesn't want to agree, wants to shake his head and knock some sense into her. But when Maura comes into the room frantically, rushing out _what's wrong?_ like she's close to collapsing, Niall changes his mind. He hasn't seen his mother look so distraught in a long time.

"You all right, ma?" he stages, chuckling lightly. "I was just going to ask if dinner was ready." She sighs out relief, puts a hand over her heart as she rolls her eyes at Niall.

"Jesus Christ. Saint Mary, you always give me a heart attack."

"Sorry, mam. Love you, though."

"Yeah, whatever," she chuckles when she walks back into the kitchen, asking Katie if she could set up the table.

Katie does, after she switches her long-sleeve shirt for a crimson sweater that hugs her tiny frame.

 

 

She coughs in front of Niall again when they're at the cemetery, laying on a blanket next to Theo's tombstone.

Niall feels he's neglected him for a little, like he got used to his death and he does _not_ want that. So with Katie easily tagging along and a basket full of sweets in the carseat behind him, they drive to visit their nephew.

They're passing sandwiches, Niall puts a carefully wrapped one next to the latest _Hot Wheelz_ toy car he placed there a few months ago, doesn't care if it's stupid. _Eat up, bud_ , he thinks to the ingrained picture of a little blonde boy.

Katie doesn't say anything, just hums and tips her head back when the wind gently passes them. But then her body contorts and she's sickeningly coughing, heaving air between the fits that are taking over. By the time she's done and Niall's holding her body up, she's stained the blue quilt under profusely.

"Kat, come on," Niall urges when she wipes her mouth and apologizes repeatedly. "Stop apologizing, it's not your fault. What's going on?" She shakes her head, says she wants to go back to her sandwich when Niall stops her. "You're scaring me," he whispers.

Katie hugs her knees to her chest, pushes brown strands away from her face.

"I think it's starting again."

"W-..." he starts, barely opens his mouth to elaborate further. An ugly feeling is dripping down his back, sticking to his frame and not letting go. "What do you mean?" he whispers, doesn't realize his voice is barely above audible. She understands him, though.

"The serum wore off, Niall. I know it did," she frowns at the ground. "I'm weak all the time, my periods are the fucking worst and I can't even breathe normally without coughing anymore."

The wind dies slowly, settles around her flowing hair before the brown locks frame her shoulders and back. Bright eyes stayed fixed on the ground, pale frail hands still around bony knees. Niall doesn't even know how to move, doesn't know how to send a command down his arm to grasp his sister into a hug.

"How long?"

"Since that day at mam's. It's been happening more frequently, though."

"Have you told her?"

"Of course not."

" _Katie_."

"I don't want to go back there," she frowns, looking up at Niall finally. Her eyes are shimmering, reflecting the setting sun to Niall's right. She looks so scared, so frightened and unsure of everything. "Niall, you can't make me go back there. Please, don't tell ma." She swallows, shuffles closer until her head is under Niall's chin, arms around his paralyzed figure. "Either way I'm dying," she continues. Niall shudders, presses his face in her hair to stop from sobbing. "I don't want to die there."

Everything's happening too soon for Niall, too soon to keep track of. It's like life is honestly against him, like they're opposing forces, getting into position for the 400m race. It's like he doesn't even stand a chance, like the moment the horn sounds life has already ran half of it; and he's struggling, giving all he has, running until his body protests.

He drops off Katie, doesn't realize he's in his own home, alone, until he's standing in the middle of the hallway in the dark.

 _I don't ever wanna leave_ , a voice booms, fogging his vision.

Niall looks around him instantly, wondering where that came from. It takes a moment to decipher that that's his own voice. Niall's voice is playing in his head, playing a deep memory from years ago, a time he can barely recall. Niall shoots a hand out against the wall, stabilizing himself.

 _You're by far the greatest thing to happen to me_ , the voice continues, and Niall knows that he's voiced all this to Zayn; to Zayn, who isn't there. To Zayn who will _never_ be there. He doesn't want to revisit this memory.

There's a door right in front of him; his hand goes to open it when he cuts through thin air, notices the door's down the hall, far away from him. He can't breathe.

 _I've never been in love before, but I know I'll never love someone else again_.

"Get out of my head," he says through his teeth to no one, to anyone, covering his ears like the voice is right next to him, taunting him, poking at his control and waiting for him to crumble.

_If we ever break up, I'll compare everyone to you and no one will ever come close to how amazing you are._

This is the part where the ground opens up, or crumbles slowly into ruins. Niall's seeing two of everything, doesn't know which structure is the stabled one when he reaches out and trips into the wall.

 _Breakups aren't **final**_ , his mom chastises him.

Niall's heartbeat is the only noise he can hear in the silence, the only sign he's still alive and not finding his way through death or some type of subspace that's foreign to him. He's going to die, and for the first time in the past few months, the thought scares him, makes him breathe deeply because he can't breathe. _He can't breathe_.

 _There was nothing for him there, Niall. You know that_.

"Louis?" he slurs, turning around to find no one there. He's alone, hadn't drank in more than 24 hours. Yet he's never felt under. . . some influnece as strongly and drastically as he does now.

He's in his room, he thinks, can't see in front of him, can't breathe enough air to pass through his body. The cloth under his clumsy hands feels like his blanket, but everything's so dark, he can't tell.

_I lost my best friend because of you._

"I'm sorry," he whimpers to Harry, blinking to find him not there. He's alone, sitting on the edge of his bed and he's so, fucking, scared. "I'm so sorry."

_No matter how much you want to help **yourself** , you don't get fixed._

He hasn't heard Harley's voice in so long, longer than he would've liked. He misses her, suddenly. Or maybe he doesn't want to be alone, doesn't want to feel like a hand is reaching through the darkness to choke him. His heart's beating quicker than he can chart and his lungs feel heavy with lead, like they're pressing down against his organs. He's going to die here, alone. He can't breathe; no one's there to make sure he's okay when he can't even breathe.

It must be raining heavily outside, drenching his roof and painting the windows with showers. His window is splattered with drops, rattling against its hinges with the wind. He feels just as frantic, like if he falls from his roof, he'll just dissipate in air with the frenzy energy coursing through him.

It's too much, he's only human, unfortunately. And there is a force or two beating down on him, taking everything he loves away. They took Zayn, they took Theo, they took his father and brother away, they took Zayn _again_. And now they're going to take his sister. He's sure he must've upset a lot of important people in a past life. He's sure he's cursed, whether from the past or present, now. Someone's cursed him. What boggles his mind the most is how strong he believes it, because no one should be alive after housing so much pain at one time in their life. He's going to die, and they're taking everything away from him.

 _And I hope you never stop loving me. I don't think I'll want to be around after that_.

So that's why, Niall thinks, believes. He's cursed himself. In a fit of naïve happiness, at a time only he and Zayn existed, at a time they ignored everyone else for their own selifish and needed bliss, Niall's managed to curse himself into a burning sea, like the water's made of fire and the fiery waves are tumbling him around, forcing him under the surface to breathe in ash and crisp skin. He's cursed himself, hilariously. Pathetically.

_Did you honestly think I could **endure** that?_

Niall's not strong anymore, and for the first time he completely gives up, lets go of the rope and falls. Lets go of his control, his composure, his normalcy. He has nothing left. And with a pathetic, neglected thought, it's all Zayn's doing, and Niall's caused it upon himself.

His face crumbles before he feels it contorting into a countenance of pain. His eyes squeeze shut, his bottom lip trembles and tears fall across his temple as the ceiling looms ahead of him. He's given up, so he doesn't go to cover his face.

He's given up, so he doesn't bother taking off his clothes nor getting under the covers. He's given up, so doesn't bother comforting himself with the memories of Zayn he has stored.

"Do you honestly think _I_ could?" he sobs to no one.

 

 

"Okay," Harry gently orders, camera over his face as he takes multiple shots, "Calum, turn to the left, please. And smile, you can smile! You look confused in all the shots," he jokes.

The guys laugh, even Calum who would've told Harry off by this point if, you know, it was _anyone_ but Harry.

Their EP is recorded and ready, thanks to Niall. (He decided a few weeks back not to sing, but to manage them instead; doesn't want the spotlight on him when he's felt so focused, lately.) They have six songs and a cover from The Vaccines. They just need the actual _EP_ cover, which is why Harry's here, propping their background and setting up the lights to face them. He had all the equipment already. So with an implication and a whining tone through the phone, Niall's persuaded him to take a two-week break and help him set it up.

"I still think you should sing with us," Luke pouts after Harry told them they were going to take the next set of photoshoots outdoors. "Now the _5_ in our name doesn't make sense."

"The _whole_ name doesn't make sense, babe," Calum laughs, brushing off Luke's back of dust.

"That's not true," he responds, before they go into a bicker about the name where Ashton joins and Michael stays seated, on his phone.

"Do you know any rural environments around here?" Harry asks Niall, placing the cap over the camera's face.

Niall scoffs.

"Rural? For a punk band?"

"Contradictions, I love 'em," Harry smiles. Niall only hugs his tall, skinny frame to him, keeps a tight grip until Harry heaves a laugh. "Jeez, Ni. Don't be nice yet. You're not getting rid of me for two weeks."

"I know," Niall beams. "Which is why we should postpone this and just chill over mine's? Please? I'll order a whole pie just for you," he bargains.

Harry sighs, rubs his chin and rolls his eyes fondly.

"I want broccoli and anchovies."

"That's disgusting," Niall scrunches up his nose, but it's a won deal.

It's later, really later, after Michael becomes BFFLs with Harry and Ashton slumps into the bathroom hours ago, only to be found in a spare bedroom napping, after Calum soberly covers Luke's body in Sharpie tattoos and Niall's warming up his fifth slice, that Louis gets there with Aiden.

Niall finds it odd, honestly, how Louis' managed to hold a steady relationship this long with someone he isn't fully in love with. He mulls this over for a while before wondering (completely curiously) who invited him, before remembering that Harry's there. And they might be friends, if what both parties said is true, but Niall hasn't seen both of them under the same roof since that ill departure at the airport.

It's supremely, bone-chillingly odd seeing them hug when they greet each other. Niall has to look away because it's so _intimate_ , the way Louis instantly curves his head into Harry's neck without thought, how Harry's big hand pets Louis' frizzy hair like this one touch is making his body function properly. He must be the only one who notices, because Aiden's gone to greet the other guys that he's seen a small handful of times before and the only other people are still hugging.

His phone rings in the moment of his solitude, fortunately. He just wishes he never picked up five minutes later when his mother tells him that she's in the hospital with Katie, that she's found a shirt of hers with blood and witnessed her coughing while they were grocery shopping.

"Want me to be there with you?" he offers, knows without a doubt he'll kick everyone out in a heartbeat if it comes to that. (Well, excluding Harry, obviously.)

"No. No, honey, it's okay," she says, and she sounds so sad, _too_ sad, like the emotion leaks through the phone line to cocoon Niall, because it's too much for her little frame. "I'll be fine on me own. I just," she sighs, Niall knows she's just placed the back of her palm against her forehead then, "I think this is it, you know? Found out she's been coughing blood for _months_ and I just found out," she shutters. "How did I not notice before? If I had only seen this--"

"Hey. Ma, don't take this out on yourself, okay? You know Katie. You know she'll hide something like this for as long as possible." He swallows, goes to admit _he_ knew when she rushes that the doctor called them to check her, hanging up with a promise she'll call him once she found out anything.

"Who was that?" Harry asks, shuffling into the kitchen with color over his face. He's evidently happy, it makes Niall smile shortly.

"Me mam," he shrugs, not wanting to get into details.

"Who invited Lou?" Harry continues, and Niall smirks, knows this was where Harry was going all along.

"Honestly?" he chuckles, "I don't know. Maybe Ashton or Luke, they're close. Why?" he pressures. Harry just shrugs tightly, mutters _no reason_. "Mhm. Sure," Niall wiggles his eyebrows, revels in the strong blush crushing over Harry's face that only intensifies when Louis walks in. There's a jut in his hips when he walks, back straight and hair tousled carefully over his forehead. Niall doesn't remember ever seeing Louis so flustered; the blond's a mixture of anxiety and excitement at this point.

"You good?" Louis asks (unnecessarily, might Niall add), peeking in the fridge for something to do, back to Harry.

"Yeh, why?"

"No reason," he shrugs. Niall could laugh if Louis didn't immediately ask, "How's Katie, though? Still with the fits?"

"Um, yeah," he mumbles, "Just got off the phone with mam right now, actually. They're at the hospital, she just found out."

"Oh my God, how did she take it?"

"Better than I thought? I don't know. She was still hard on herself, but I couldn't talk for long before she had to go back there."

"Do you need me to drive you there?" Harry interjects kindly, looking in between them with his bottom lip timidly in his mouth.

"No, I got him," Louis say, not even looking at Harry. "Need me to give you a lift?"

"Nah, m'good. She said--"

"No seriously," Harry says, "I'm just a visitor here, I don't think I'll be comfortable just lounging while he's at the hospital."

"No seriously," Louis mocks, keeps a smile on his face, and Niall immediately knows that Louis' playing an unfair game, "I got it."

"No seriously," Niall clips, looking in between the both of them, "I'm fine. I'm just gonna stay here."

"Just offering, in case, yeah?" Louis continues at the same time Harry says _the offer still stands_. There's an awkward silence before Louis slowly looks up at Harry, where they stare at each other for too long. "All's settled here, you can go play games with your friends," Louis jerks his head to the living room.

"With all due respect," Harry nods once, "but I was talking to him first."

"Well, I'm talking to him now. So you can go over there."

 _Not here_ , Niall's thinking. _Please don't argue in my fucking kitchen_.

Louis looks like he's going to lose it in a second. And Niall's sure the tension popping off his best friend's skin is due to not being invited by Niall himself, arriving unprepared with Harry's presence, and just Harry alone. Niall could loosely relate to him, knows if they'd switch places he would've been lost his shit.

Harry sighs through his nose, tenses his jaw and speaks when he's by the doorway leading into the living room.

"But really, Ni. If you need a ride I'll drive you. Wouldn't want to stay alone, all right?"

"You can stay here all night alone, _all right_?" Louis hisses, turning to face him fully. "You can stay here all fucking night and wait for him tomorrow _morning!_ "

It doesn't end there, but Louis does go home single, and _still_ without Harry.

 

 

Niall wakes up with an ache in his head too pronounced to just be labeled headache. Feels like acid is wrapped around his brain, disintegrating the flesh from the inside out.

He can recall bits of the day before. Eating greasy pizza and playing tons of Wii because, if he remembers correctly, Ashton spilled soda on one of the PlayStation controllers. Then there was.... fuck. Niall shoots up from the bed, only to flop back down when his whole body protests against the movement.

He can remember bits of the unnecessary argument, leaving the kitchen to let Harry and Louis talk it out. He wanted to kick them out, he wholly did. But Harry was a guest and if Louis was mad enough he didn't give a shit.

 _Harry_.

Niall wills himself to get up, to look through every room for him. And Harry's not there. He couldn't have gone home. He _couldn't_. Niall will kill Louis with his bare hands if it came down to that.

 _I'm just at a motel for now, needed a breather, yeah? I'll be back late tomorrow xx_ , Harry texted him the night before when Niall finally finds his phone by the living room wall, just laying there, not even charging.

 _Im goin to kill u_ , he texts Louis, only for Louis to text back he's doing the same to Niall. The blond doesn't get it, never got his best friend, so after cleaning himself up and charging his phone, he slumps in the sofa, gazes at the ceiling without realizing he's falling asleep midmorning.

 

  
There's a loud booming noise outside his door that startles him, like someone splashed cold water on him to wake him up. It takes a few deep breaths and time to get his mind alert with the rest of his body to realize the sounds are knocks, like heavy fists trying to barge down the door.

"Yeah?" he calls. "Hold up." There are multiple missed calls from Louis when he passes the phone, and with a roll of his eyes because he knows who's the dramatic knock now, he opens the door.

Only to be pushed against the wall harshly, the visitor barging in without a word. Niall grimaces.

"What the fu--"

"Shut up!" Zayn yells, baring his teeth, hands balled into tight, painful fists when he looks back at Niall. "Why don't you shut, the _fuck_ up?"

"Zayn?" he asks, staying where he's at, not giving it thought if he should step closer to Zayn or even ask what he's doing there in the first place.

He looks menacing. . . pure _evil_. Like life's done him wrong and he took revenge over every passing person, but it wasn't enough. Zayn's red in the face, red with sweat across his forehead and hair damp and unkempt. He's looking at Niall like he wants to kill him.

Niall still loves him, though, pathetically, desperately; thinks he'd give his life for Zayn if it had to come down to it.

"Z--?"

"You know _just_ what you're doing? _Don't you?_ " he shrills, jumping at Niall. It makes the blond visibly flinch back, close to bringing his arms up to cover himself from any offense.

"What?"

"Don't play dumb," he hisses, taking a step closer. He heaves deeply, bares his teeth. "You seriously didn't think I'd hear the fucking voicemails? _All of them?_ "

"I haven't called you in a long time," Niall says loudly. He tries to sound threatening, like he could take Zayn if it came to that. But he just sounds desperate, close to tears. "It's not my fault you just heard them."

Zayn stares blankly for a second, then erupts into laughter, banging the heel of his palm against his temple. Niall knows the laugh is anything but genuine.

"You seriously--? Why am I even talking to you?" Zayn says to no one, close to ripping out his hair before glaring back at Niall. "You think I meant all those calls before?"

"W--?"

"Stop playing fucking dumb, Niall! I've had it! I don't have time for this shit!"

"What are you talking about?" Niall screams, wants Zayn to leave. But doesn't want him to leave, either. He wants to hit him then kiss him, and maybe hit him again. His heart's at his throat and he's still by the wall, gripping his hand behind his back as he waits for Zayn to hit him, kill him, do _something_. He just knows Zayn's going to do something.

"You know, maybe you should stop drinking all together. You're such a fucking mess when you're drunk," Zayn spits, not stopping. "I'm talking about last night, or this morning for me, actually."

Niall only gapes, feels dizzy. He only breathes when he _remembers_ to, when his lungs are protesting against their negligence.

"You think I have time for this, Niall? Do you honestly think I have time for you?"

"No, I don't."

"Bullshit! That's fucking bullshit!"

"I don't remember calling you!" Niall cries, feels himself breathing heavily. There's an inhaler somewhere in the house. He's sure ten mintues ago he remembered its location, but right now the only thing processing in his mind is the deathly glare Zayn's not relenting.

"I don't remember calling you, I'm sorry. I don't remember what I said, when I said it, anything. I'm sorry," he admits, knows he's sorry for more than one thing. "I don't know why you're here," he says cautiously, like Zayn will pounce if he says one wrong word, "And I don't know what I said to make you like this, but I am so sorry, Zayn," he whispers, knows he means it.

Zayn only stares at him, tenses his jaw twice and lets his hands fall lazily.

"No, you're not. You're not sorry."

He leaves Niall there, goes to sit at the dining table, looks defeated and exhausted, like he stayed up all night and the time for sleep was taken from him. His phone's in his hand, he's pressing buttons and before Niall can ask what's going on, his grainy voice speaks through the line.

 _Hi. Zayn_ , he sighs, evidently drunk. Niall's never heard a repeat of one of his voicemails, doesn't know if he can live through this.

"Zayn--" he helplessly warns, only to be shot a glare again.

 _Zayn, um. I'm alone, obviously. I think I've been alone for the past four and a half years, if I'm honest. But I mean literally, like physically alone._ He laughs lowly, the noise pixelated from the speaker. _I don't know, I just wanted to hear your voice. I like hearing your tone message, sounds just like you._ He's so drunk. _You sound happy, haven't heard you happy in a really long time. I'm sorry for that, though. You deserve to be happy. You deserve everything. I mean **everything**_ , he swallows. _I don't know what I was gonna say but_ \--

The line beeps with the end of it. And Niall's stopping his throat from expanding, forcing himself to stay strong. Did Zayn come over just so Niall could finish what he was going to say?

"Zayn."

Zayn ignores him, goes to play the next message. Niall's going to pass out, fall unconscious with the surging tremors running through his mind.

 _Whoa, that was rude. Phone cut me off. Zayn, that's not nice. Your phone doesn't even wanna talk to me_ , he laughs sadly. _I know you don't want to, you made that clear when you left. Do you know I cried when you left? I cried the next day, too. I think the day after, I'm not sure. I cry a lot, because of you_ , he pauses, breathing deeply. _S'just weird that I lost you twice. I lost the love of my life twice. And I don't think I deserve that. I don't think anyone deserves that. No one at all. Not even Alice. I still remember her. I hope she's happy, too. Hope she's not like me. It hurts a lot, Zayn. I know you don't care, but I don't think I've ever told you this. Just wanna get it out there, before it's too late, so_ \--

"Zayn?" Niall whispers, only for Zayn to keep looking down at his phone, playing another message.

 _Think your phone's trying to tell me something, Z. I'll be done soon, promise. I don't want to annoy you any more, I really don't._ There's a pause, like Niall's thinking. _You remember the day you found out I liked you? It was a Monday. And I was throwing up the day before? Did I ever tell you why? Don't know if I did, but I threw up 'cause of you. Weird, right? It was when I remembered the night before, you walked me home, and I told you I liked you. I remembered that Sunday morning, how much I meant it, how much I felt it, the feelings I had for you. Still have. It made me throw up, because I couldn't maintain it all. The effect you had on me, the fact you were the first person I ever genuinely liked and you were a boy. **Man** , I mean_, he laughs. _I remember the next day, you correcting me. Saying you were a man, not a boy._

"Zayn, please stop."

 _Well I threw up about an hour ago,_ the next message starts. And Niall can't even look at Zayn anymore. _Sorry if that's gross. Just found it weird since it was 'cause of you, again. Harry's staying for a little, and earlier he and Louis argued so bad, Zayn. I mean, Aiden got in the middle of it and left without Lou, and Lou broke up with him and-- It was all intense. And Harry still loves Lou, and I saw the way he looked when Louis left, when Lou left him, again. It reminded me of when you left again. And when Harry and them left, after everything happened I just thought_ , he cleared his throat. _You're not coming back. Like, ever. And that's a **lot** to take in. I won't ever see you again, yet I can picture you so clearly. I'll never hold your hand, touch your face or make you smile. Remember when you said that at the graduation party? I wanted to do the same for you, and. I just failed. I failed, and that's a lot to take in, Zayn._

Niall doesn't interrupt when Zayn starts another one, knows he can't feel any more humiliated than he already does.

 _I don't know why I even called. Can't think of any logical reason, but._ A pause. _You're, just so amazing, Zayn. I'm sure you get told that by other people, other better people who has never hurt you. But I might not say it again, ever. You're,_  he starts, and he's whimpering now, like it's painful to continue. _You're by far the greatest thing to happen to me, Zayn. I don't think I told you enough. And maybe that's why I'm like this, you know? I didn't appreciate you near the end._ He sighs heavily, tries to compose himself though his voice still croaks. _I remember me mam once telling me, that breakups aren't final, that the person decides whether or not the relationship is final, and. It's final, Zayn. I think it's time I say that, admit it to myself. I'll let you go. And maybe now I'll be okay. I'm not okay, but this is a start. I still love you, that might never change, but I'm rooting for that it does._ He hums lowly. _Root for me, too, please? That's the last thing I'll ever ask. Love you, Z. M'sure you know that._

 

 

Niall can't say he's gone through something like this. Can't say he knows someone else who's felt this level of humiliation. He doesn't wish this upon anybody. Absolutely no one. But if he's given the opportunity to pass this burdened shame to someone, he'd grab it without hesitation.

He feels like he can physically drown in his embarrassment, like he's being brought down and shunned on worldwide television, and everyone's laughing at him. Or maybe he's just so pathetic that it's not even funny, that they just turn away when he walks by because he's the epitome of disgrace. Niall doesn't deserve this.

"I don't deserve this," Zayn says, rubbing his forehead.

"Zayn, I--"

"Tell me," he interrupts, pinching the skin between his eyes. "Why, do I come back from a meeting, on my way to see one of the biggest companies I'm partnered with," he rushes, tapping his foot harshly, "Explain why my assistant brings me my phone, to have all this shit on it, just waiting for me?"

Niall swallows, doesn't know what the big deal is. He's humiliated, yes. Feels like the layers of his sanity are stripped from him, but it's nothing he hasn't probably said before. He's sure he's said worse, and Zayn heard them all. So why is he here this time?

"I don't. I don't know what you mean."

Zayn stands up slowly, looks down at his phone coldly. He's weighing the device in his hand steadily, deciding something.

There's a woosh of air next to Niall before a crash lands right by his ear, shards of metal flying by the side of his face. The phone lands in a crumble by his feet, screen cracked and split in half, totally ruined. Niall knows if Zayn wanted to hit him, he would've; he has flawless aim.

He's never been scared shitless and he only moves back enough that he doesn't crash into the wall next to him. He's literally barricaded in the corner, lungs failing him when Zayn is in his face, punching the wall by his head.

"WHAT DO YOU WANT FROM ME?"

He doesn't know who says it, but that's how he feels and he can feel Zayn's breath ruffling his hair.

"Zayn, I don't know what you want," he begs, would rather have a fist bash his face in than this. "I don't know what you want me to say, just please stop!"

"So now you're quiet? Is this what I gotta do to shut you up?" he screams, and Niall instantly covers his face, doesn't want to see Zayn. "You don't have the right to be quiet! You explain that shit! You explain why--"

"There's nothing to explain!" Niall screams even louder, bringing his hands down but squeezing his eyes shut. He's counting in his head, thinks if he counts long enough Zayn would disappear, and he'll wake up from this nightmare he doesn't deserve. He'd rather hear all his calls again, all the drunken, stupid and pathetic voicemails he's left since the beginning in order, over and over again. He'd rather listen to them than have Zayn here right now. "I meant everything I said," he whispers, still not looking at the man right in front of him. The man he still loves bitterly, to no end. "I meant everything."

He feels, more than hears Zayn back away. He doesn't go far, but it's enough that Niall could look up at him, could frown at the face he's losing for the third time. Niall doesn't know if it hurts more than before or if he's too numb to feel anything, might feel everything after he leaves and it's inevitably official.

"Zayn," he pleads, "I don't know why you're here, and I don't remember ever saying all of that, but I do mean it," he says honestly. Zayn just stares at him, and now he's silent. Niall prepares himself to continue. "You have a huge business, Zayn. One that's only going to get bigger, and no one is more happy for you than me. And I know that's your life now, and that I'm not a part of it, will never be a part of it.

"You're engaged to a beautiful woman," he goes on, saw the pictures of Aleah via Louis. She's the Lola from _Shark Tale_ , honestly; with chestnut-dyed hair and caramel skin, vibrant green eyes to her pale pink mouth and a fit body that Niall's never even seen in person. She's Lola and Niall's Mr. Sikes, honestly. "I know you're happy with her, more happy than you were with me, I've seen pictures." He doesn't care how stalkerish he sounds, it's the truth.

"You don't know anything," he whispers, still just gaping at Niall.

"I do, Zayn," he says more firmly, getting louder. "I'm not a child anymore. I'm not the kid from uni, and I'm definitely not the same person when I was with you." That's the truth, too. He knows every semblance of him from years ago has slowly chipped away over time. It doesn't make saying it aloud any easier, though. This is the first time, actually. "We don't fit anymore," he confesses. He doesn't even know what he's saying at this point, but once the words hit the air between them he realizes how true they are.

"There's not a place for me in your life, that part is over. I don't fit anywhere. And neither do you in mine," he swallows, dares himself to keep going. "I love you, more than anyone and anything. More than everything, honestly. But I'm not naïve, Zayn. That's not enough, I know."

"You don't know anything," Zayn repeats, looking at the ground in front of him. Niall just answers his question from earlier.

"I don't want anything from you." He wants to say more, say _something_ , because it doesn't ring like closure, but there's nothing left to say. "I can manage on my own."

Niall's never done this before, believes he's doing it all wrong since Zayn still isn't convinced, isn't settled. He isn't settled either, doesn't know what to blame it on besides them. They've burned through each other, Niall realizes. They've burned through each other and this is the shitty result, this shitty excuse of closure.

"You don't know anything," Zayn continues. He's fighting with himself. Opening his mouth to only close it, looking up at Niall before looking away and squeezing his eyes shut. "I don't," he huffs, daring _himself_ to look at Niall. "I don't _want_ you to," he stresses.

And that, right there, is the reason he's here. It all happens too quick, Niall doesn't even understand it all. But honestly he doesn't want to, just wants to go back in his comfort zone where Zayn's a whole sea away; it's not the best place, but he's gotten used to it.

"I--" Niall starts, unsure what Zayn's referring to. "Okay, Zayn," he settles on, doesn't want to keep talking, doesn't want to elaborate.

"You don't know anything," Zayn whimpers, then. And the roles are reserved. He's the frantic one, unsure of all his movements while Niall has everything in mental order, knows what's going to happen after Zayn leaves. "I don't _want_ you to let me go."

This is the part where the world stops, where everyone holds their breath and wait for the next move. Niall doesn't know what to say, believes if he thinks about it deeply enough he let Zayn go a long time ago; just didn't admit it to himself.

"I'm engaged," Zayn huffs sadly, and there are tears finding their way down his face. "I have the world at my feet and I can do anything I want, but I don't want you to let me go."

His name is Niall James Horan, he was born September 13 in Ireland, and he's in love with a man he can't have. That's all he's sure of at this moment. He doesn't know what Zayn wants him to say.

"Zayn, I don't know what you want me to say."

"I want you to say that message was a lie! I want you to say, in my face," he's getting closer, making Niall press himself further into the wall, "I want you to tell me, right now, that you were joking!" he screams. Niall's unfazed, feels sympathy and so much adoration for the crumbling person in front of him. Zayn's frowning, mouth gaping in air and chest jumping. "Niall," he whimpers, "please, don't tell me that was true."

"I thought that was what you always wanted," Niall answers, knows his face is wet with tears, but he doesn't care, can't care when Zayn needs all the help he can get. "I don't want to pine for something that's not mine."

"I am yours!" Zayn confesses, slapping the wall and hovering over Niall. "I was always yours and--" he stops, realizes what he's saying and presses a finger to his temple. "I mean--" he swallows before shaking his head slowly. "I don't know what I'm doing but you can't say you mean all of that," he cries.

"I don't know what you're saying, Zayn. But I can't go back to before if, if that's--"

"That's what I'm saying!" Zayn clarifies. "I need you, I always did. I moved a whole continent away," he hits the wall again. "I moved to get away from you and look where I am, right now, Niall! I--" he sighs, hangs his head to clear thoughts, looks up and Niall sees how clear his eyes are.

"I don't know what I'm saying, and I don't know what I'm doing. I just don't want to hurt anymore."

"Do what you want," Niall says evenly, despite the clog in his throat. "Do what's easy, what you think is best for you. I don't want to effect you anymore, Zayn. I just--"

Zayn doesn't do what's easiest, but he does what he wants, knows he was right when his mouth touches Niall's and he feels drained, like this is the sleep he was looking for.

Niall was still talking in his head, and when he comes to focus, finds Zayn closer, Zayn _on_ him, Zayn's mouth on _his_ , he forgets everything. His name is meaningless, can't even recall Zayn's name but knows the emotions churning in him are all only for the man he's kissing back.

 _YES, YES, YES_ , is a prayer in his head. He feels like he could sob, honestly, when he wraps his arms around Zayn unconsciously and Zayn's _there_. He's _there_ and--

Niall's back connects with the wall again, so sharp he exhales completely, only to find Zayn pushed him against it.

" _Zayn_ ," he tries, because Zayn is still fighting with himself, unsure of everything. "Zayn, you're _here_."

"I have to leave, I have to go, but. . . but I _can't_." Zayn looks like he's failing, but gaining something on the other side of whatever this shameful euphoria is.

"So don't," Niall shakes his head harshly, just wants Zayn closer, didn't know how much he sincerely _needs_ him until now. "Don't leave. You don't ever have to leave, Zayn, I mean it--"

"Shut _up_ ," Zayn hisses, slamming him against the wall. But his resolve is breaking and Niall's never felt so elated he doesn't even feel the impact.

"Okay," he nods quickly. "okay, I'll shut up. I'll shut up, Zayn. Just--"

Zayn kisses him shut, doesn't stop until Niall's unable to make a coherent sound.


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is it!!! Hope you guys like it! I worked the hardest on this piece than I did with any previous one before so I hope it's reflected. (This story was originally planned to be four chapters idek what happened.) And with this epilogue there will be fluff and drama (I'm sorry, I really love drama) and resolved problems, etc.  
> More than a healthy portion of my life revolves around Ziall (no lie) so I hope you stick around xxxx I love you all individually and wish I could create the greatest world ever so we can coexist and fangirl together haha  
> First and foremost, I need to thank my beta. my wonderful, beautiful, substantially intelligent beta who I won't give the name of because I don't think she'll like that lol. She is the second pair of eyes to this story (and everything else I write, honestly), so thank her for its clear message and the corrected grammar my partially dyslexic mind couldn't pick up on. I love you so much, my own personal Louis. no matter how aloof and annoying you can be, I can't put into words how important you are to me. And I'm currently smiling at how uncomfortable you must be reading this >:)))) <3  
> And last but not least, the readers!!! Christ, you can't even begin to imagine how motivational you guys were and still are. There were actual times I've given up with this story because I couldn't see an end and didn't have the muse to continue. Then a random comment would appear, asking me to continue, and that literally made it all worth it. You have yourselves to thank for this finished work. And I thank you all, too. So, so much. xx <3  
> So... the end, shall we?

They don't have sex, but Zayn stays the night. He stays and holds Niall and memorizes his face all over again. He runs his hand down Niall's sides and firms them behind his thighs to pick him up, wondering if this is all a dream or actually happening. He holds Niall tightly, like he's converging them into one being because no matter how physically close they can get, it's not enough.

Zayn's dreamt of all of this, if he's honest. He's dreamt of how Niall would feel under his hands again, how the contours of his body and the texture of his skin would react under his dark palms again. He's dreamt of obscene blue eyes looking up at him and an obnoxious laugh accompanying him at an important dinner with other accomplices.

He's dreamt of all this and more, which is why he's making sure this is all actually happening instead of a dream.

They don't have sex, but Niall can't help but kiss him repeatedly, like he's trying to cleanse the old layer of the man that hosted his _ex_ , like he's making him brand new. He kisses his forehead and his hair line, down the sides of his face and every patch of skin that's available to him. The man in front of Niall is still slightly hesitant, like he'll run if a tangible glass shatters, and Niall needs to make sure he stays this time, for both of their sakes.

Niall kisses the bridge of his nose, running his lips down until they get to the sharp point. He kisses his eyelids when Zayn squeezes his eyes shut, like the blond this close and _there_ is too much to witness after years of absence. He kisses his neck adoringly, the slope of his jaw and the skin of his chin. Niall pushes his hair back softly, to take in beautiful features laid out bare in front of him before kissing his mouth, not moving away until Zayn isn't hesitant, until he sighs back where he's sat and grips Niall to him tighter.

They make it to bed, only desiring proximity in their exhausted state. And when they're close to slumber and pressed against each other, Zayn genuinely smiles down at him. It's the first time he's smiled all day and it makes Niall's lungs stop mid-inhale, realizing he hasn't witnessed such a beautiful expression in so long.

It's drastically hot in the middle of the night, and Niall gets up to sluggishly turn on the air conditioning, taking a few seconds longer since he can't see the buttons properly in the dark. Zayn watches him all through it, woke up when Niall stumbled out of bed. He watches Niall murmur nonsense as he rubs his eyes, how he squints down at the machine as if it's Japanese. It makes him roughly chuckle, voice scratched with disuse.

"Why're you laughing?" Niall croaks, coming back to bed and immediately dropping onto Zayn, emitting a groan from the man. "You're supposed to be asleep."

"You woke me up. Now be quiet, I wanna go back to sleep."

Zayn's gentle when he says this, gentle while he smoothes his hands down Niall's bare back. He kisses Niall's forehead, lingering lips even more gentle than the rest.

It's the most intimacy Niall's gotten since they lived together.

 

  
The next morning is odd. Niall wakes up with the last day's memory instantly dropping into his mind. He remembers everything vividly, too vividly for half past eleven in the morning, he notices when he checks his phone.

He doesn't move for a while, rather intent on figuring out what to do next. Last night, in the pitch black, it was easy to imagine Zayn always there, like he was before. It was easy to forget the rough hiatus in their time instead of dwelling on it. It's just something about the night that either magnifies or obscures situations people would rather avoid than encounter.

But now the sunlight is drafting lazily through the room, hiding nothing as Niall sighs deeply, sinks more into the bedframe. He wants to make Zayn a huge breakfast, something extraordinary and well-thought because if there's at least one good factor during the discussion they can't shy from, food never disappoints. He also wants to cuddle into Zayn before he wakes up, and goes to reach for the man to find the space empty. And every

Thing

Stops

He doesn't realize he shoots up from the bed, doesn't realize there _isn't_ a pile of clothes next to the bed besides his own, doesn't realize anything until he frantically searches every room in this house. And _then_ he realizes that Zayn left. Again.

He's going to kill him, he's sure of it. Niall's going to find where Zayn lives and personally kill him with his bare hands. But for the walk of shame back to his bed he sulks to himself, _for_ himself, already mentally preparing himself for a journey he doesn't want to venture on again.

It's while he crawls over the covers, ready to fall face-first into the pillow, that there's a note on his neighoring pillow, gently swaying with the current of his moving around.

_I didn't leave you. I did **not** leave you, Niall. I got a last-minute call, a scheduled confrontation I missed because I was on the other side of the world aha :) xx I don't care, though. I got you back again after all this mess. At least, it seemed that way yesterday. I can't begin to tell you how happy I am while writing this (found paper in one of your notebooks, might've read some of your songs also, they're really good. and really sad). This isn't a conversation that should be discussed via paper so I'll wait until you get over here. But just know I love you, more than anything. More than ~~everything~~ every-fucking-thing! And I can't stress that enough. We'll work it all out. I'll see you soon, baby._

_P.S. I booked you a ticket to come to the states, it leaves at seven p.m. You're coming and that's it._

_P.P.S. you can text/call me. I'll always answer this time, promise. xx_

 

  
It's still patchy. There are still things that aren't completely fixed, might not ever be fixed. But Niall has Zayn, that makes it all feel better than it did before. And Zayn has Niall, who is just as brilliant as he remembered.

It's probably (definitely) the number one discussion they need to have. And when Niall arrives at the airport to find Zayn already waiting for him, while they're driving to Zayn's estate with Zayn's hand firmly holding Niall's thigh, the blond timidly brings it up, keeps his face down in case the answer's not what he wants to hear.

"I kicked her out," Zayn answers casually, leaning back in his seat at a red light. It's weird seeing Zayn driving on the left instead of the right, but Niall's the one in his passenger seat and that's all that matters, honestly.

" _What?_ " Niall gawks, jumping up in his seat. "You just kicked your fiancee out?"

Zayn shrugs, mutters _ex-fiancee_ as his grip on Niall tightens. Niall at least assumed she was out of the picture, but.

"What?" Zayn asks, when Niall can't bring himself to ask an appropriate question.

"You... I mean, wasn't-- I don't know, you just. Kicked her _out?_ "

Zayn shrugs again. "I was never going to actually _marry_ her, babe. Couldn't, really. Not when you're not in it, you know?" He looks up at Niall, eyes barren and mouth frowning. Niall only asks why he ever proposed in the first place, and Zayn swallows, looks away to focus on the road as his hands tighten on the steering wheel. "She's out of the picture, worry about that. I just want to worry about you from now on, okay?" He says it gently, brings the hand on Niall's knee to softly caress his pale cheek slowly, thumb lingering on his chin.

"Okay," Niall whispers, putting his hand over Zayn's and leaning into it. This is Zayn's hand, his rough tan hand in Niall's and the blond still needs a moment to take that in. That Zayn is _there_ , with _him_. That he wants to _stay_ there. That he's not leaving like last time. Niall can't explain the emotions churning in him, doesn't want to. He doesn't want to label the feelings. He knows no words can justify when Zayn's the reason for them. They're supernatural, is all he comes up with. It's not _natural_ having this feeling in your gut, slowly encasing the rest of your body until you feel like you can't physically breathe and only have enough energy to suppress fainting with glee. Niall might be more in love with Zayn if that's possible, doesn't want to upset him at all.

"Okay," he repeats.

 

  
This might be (absolutely, without a doubt) the second dilemma they can't steer around, not when there's no other way to confront it.

Zayn has Niall gripping the counter behind him, the rough table piercing his lowerback as Zayn hovers even closer, doesn't move his lips off of his. They've locked mouths since they entered the house, Zayn carrying him inside before accidentally stumbling into the kitchen, moving towards the closest vertically flat surface. Zayn's aiming for sex, Niall knows in the foggiest pit of his brain that Zayn hasn't reigned yet. He's aiming for the most intense makeup sex known to mankind. And it's going to be fucking fantastic! The thought has Niall shivering and unable to keep his eyes open. They've never had a period of bad sex in their relationship before, and it's only going to get better. But as Zayn bites his lips open and groans with a rough push of his hips, Niall gasps and moves his face away.

"Babe?" he inhales, tries to pull Zayn away from licking his neck with a grip on his black hair. "Babe, you have... you know, stuff?"

"There's oil, I'll get it now," he heaves, picking up Niall with one hand, mouth still latched onto skin as he walks to a cabinet.

"Okay," Niall nods, petting Zayn's hair. "Okay, you got... condoms, yeah?"

Zayn stops, looks up at him dazedly before focusing on blue eyes with a furrow through his eyebrows.

"Yeah, but..." he strokes Niall's face, lets his thumb slide against his cheek repeatedly. "I wanna... want to _feel_ you, babe. Like, I want this to be everything," he frowns.

"I know," Niall soothes, kisses Zayn once before it gets out of hand. "But wouldn't it be less messy? With. With a condom?" he tries.

"Never was a problem before," Zayn mumbles. The moment's gone. Niall knows they can get back to it without a problem but he needs this distraction more than anything.

"Um. I haven't," he starts, before scratching his forehead. Zayn's still holding him, moved both hands to grip under his thighs as he waits for Niall. "Didn't _always_ use a condom..." he mutters, frowns at Zayn in understanding.

Zayn's eyes immediately clear, but not the way Niall would've liked. His mouth hangs open and he just stands there for too long and Niall doesn't know what else to say.

"You mean. You didn't always use protection?" Niall shakes his head minutely, bites the corner of his lip. "Niall, do you even-- Fuck, you could've gotten a girl pregnant! You might even--"

"Girls weren't the problem," Niall concludes. And nothing's ever screamed silence like right now.

Zayn immediately drops Niall, doesn't even know he did. His arms just gave up and Niall trips to stabilize himself and he doesn't even know what's in front of him. Niall just stands there, watches as Zayn gapes at him, tan hands dead by his sides and not even breathing. Niall should've said he hid two bodies in his basement, that he mercilessly murdered them and sacrificed them to harvest their intestines. Zayn would've reacted better, would've reacted _at all_. Instead he just looks straight, doesn't move, doesn't even look at Niall. And Niall's going to say _something_ when Zayn turns around, walks away without another word.

"Zayn?" he asks, immediately following. He messed it up, he's sure of it. His body's currently filling with melted lead and his hands are fidgeting as they reach for Zayn's retreating back and he huffs air in like his supply is wasting. "Zayn, please talk to me."

Zayn sits down on a sofa, an expensive one with the softest brown leather and rubs his mouth in thought. He rests his elbows on his knees, looks straight ahead and doesn't talk until Niall's two minutes into being positive that he ruined it once and for all.

"Please, don't tell me you've slept with men, Niall," he deadpans, still looking at the other side of the room with a hand rubbing his mouth. "Niall, you don't mean you've slept with men, right? _Other men?!_ "

Niall stays silent. He doesn't know what's the right answer, if there even is a right answer. So he stays silent in hopes it's better than saying something wrong.

"For how long?" Zayn asks, looking at the floor now.

"What--?"

"How long have you've been sleeping with _them_ , Niall?"

"Not long," he rushes, couldn't answer a beat late with how serious Zayn is.

"How _long?_ "

"A few months, Zayn," he frowns, sitting at the edge of the sofa, a tadbit closer to Zayn. "Just a few months, Zayn, that's it. They meant nothing. They always meant nothing."

"So why would you do that?"

Niall swallows, feels dirty and wrung dry. He hasn't had sex in almost two months and Zayn still hasn't touched him the way he wants him to. Yet he feels thoroughly used and abused in his own skin. He's suddenly ashamed, like he failed Zayn yet he didn't know what else to do.

"I didn't know what else to do," he says outloud, words muffled against his knees, feet planted on the cushion underneath him.

Zayn sighs painfully, slouches restlessly and covers his face.

"This was after you saw me last," he clarifies, putting the pieces together. Niall stays silent, knows there's nothing else to say. But then Zayn says the same thing again with a whimper, shaking his head repeatedly, and he's _blaming_ himself, releasing curses upon himself and _if I had only stayed, if I had only fucking stayed._

"Zayn? It's not your fault, at all," he consoles, sitting closer. It kind of is his fault, but Niall's ingrained it in his head that it was his own doing, that he was so weak he couldn't manage without a heavy dosage of testerone in his temporary partners. "Zayn, look at me, please?"

Zayn looks up crestfallen, every feature on his face sad and distraught. Niall had a whole speech prepared but Zayn's look dissipates every word in his head.

"I can't believe another guy touched you," he stresses. "Another guy had their _hands_ on you and--" He suddenly gets up, grips his hair tightly and groans as if that'll release the images in his head. "Oh my God, you slept with a man. A man that's _not me_."

"Zayn--"

"I never thought this would happen, Niall! Fucking hell, this is all my _fucking_ fault!"

Niall doesn't think it's _that_ big of a deal. It's not because he's...you know, _open_. And he had that problem solved when Michael had uncomfortably and unsuccessfully tried to explain that that's not anatomically possible, until Calum had butted in and interpreted _the anus is a flexible muscle that returns to its original proportions after being stretched, you're not loose, fuckboy._

He must've voiced his first thought out loud, because Zayn's facing him and heaving in air.

"It's not that big of a deal?" he asks incredulously, like Niall's found the solution to world peace and refused to share it. "You had another man's _hands_ on you! _Many_ different hands and-- So much fucking more and it's not a big deal?"

"I'm here, aren't I?" Niall says loudly, standing up to stare at him better. "I can't change that part of the past. But we weren't together, Zayn." Zayn does shut up, slumps his shoulders and looks defeated. Niall goes and hugs him, hooks his chin over Zayn's shoulder and he waits for the man's heart to calm down. "I'm here now, Zayn," he continues gently when he pulls away to look up at him. "I mean, I hope that's enough--"

"That's more than enough," Zayn concludes, can't help but still frown. Niall nods quickly.

"Okay, then," he says, kisses Zayn fully once. "Okay, then. Focus on me. And I'll focus on you."

Niall gets checked, and it might be the most embarrassing moment in his life since Zayn accompanies him, but he doesn't have anything. He's clean.

And Zayn doesn't waste time to take advantage of it.

There's a smattering of come staining Niall's stomach, from when he came with Zayn's mouth on his dick, his mouth licking up and down Niall's hole and a third time when Zayn jerked him off with his dick pressed against his prostate. The semen is mixing with the sweat pooling there and Niall tries to take it, tries to close his eyes and clench around Zayn like a good boy but he can't.

Zayn's not done, might not be done for a while with how adamant he was about not letting Niall come just _once_.

"Stop," he moans, doesn't know it's all more good than bad at this point. He's shaking, visibly shaking on the bed with Zayn still inside him, still harshly jabbing against the nerves, sending fire down every limb in his body.

"Zayn, stop," he cries again, but Zayn only groans, pushes a bit harder to shut Niall up because this it what he gets, this is what Niall gets. There's a safeword they came up with, all those years ago. Niall's never used it, so he can't for the life of him remember it now, which is why he starts to hyperventilate, like Zayn will _never_ stop.

"You're mine." Zayn's voice takes a tone he's never had before, a deep timbre bordering on desperation. "This." He leans down, hunches his back as he look down at where he's ramming into Niall, only picking up the pace. "This is all fucking _mine_."

"Zayn, please stop," Niall wails. He's leaning back on his elbows, can't bring himself to move without jostling Zayn inside him. And Zayn's taking over every cell in his body in a drastic way that Niall's never witnessed. It's almost scary, and then it's nothing but fear as he feels himself get close, like a saw's inches away from cutting him in half. " _Zayn_."

"Look at me," Zayn orders, not hiding the void on his face as they look at each other for the last few moments. Niall comes with a cry, the sound filled with only pain and despair as he tightens agonzingly around Zayn in the middle of the man's release.

"Miso," Niall whimpers, finally remembering their safeword. He remembers how Zayn said it'd instantly kill the mood, how _say that once and I'll be soft faster than you can say flaccid._  It was funny at that time. Now it's anything but.

Niall cries, from physical extent instead of emotional. He curls into himself the moment Zayn pulls out, tries not to move into Zayn who hovers over him again.

"Niall? Niall, talk to me, _please_!" he begs, because he's not stupid. Niall only shoves him away, moves when his body isn't protesting, and Zayn's still there, spotless rag in his hand that's drenched in warm water, gliding it over his abdomen carefully, like Niall will flinch away at a wrong move. "I am so sorry," he emphazies, looking Niall dead in the eye to see how sincere he is. "I didn't know it was. I should've-- Fuck, baby, I'm such a dick, never again."

Niall doesn't repond, only 'cause he's trying to moisten his throat thoroughly. And through the silence Zayn apologizes profusely, doesn't relent and curses himself and looks close to freaking out when Niall touches his arm, hooks his fingers over the shamrock tattoo Zayn's explained to him.

"It's fine," he croaks, "Should've said it earlier." Zayn doesn't look convinced, only more disappointed in himself. And Niall sits up timidly, takes each moment separately before he's closer to Zayn, running a finger over his bottom lip. "I love you. You're a dick, but I'm still here." He sighs, flinches with the movement before composing himself. "I'm okay now, cuddle me, please?"

Zayn does so immediately, doesn't even complain about having to shower with Niall just _there_ , pale hands holding him closer.

 

 

 

"You've gotten skinny," Zayn hums, trying to firm the leather sleeve over Niall's shoulder. It keeps sliding off, gliding down Niall's narrower frame. There's a crease in the middle of Zayn's eyebrows, meaning he's deep in thought as Niall looks up at him perplexed.

"Well," Niall shrugs, unsure what other way to answer him. " _You're_ not skinny," he smiles. It's true, Zayn's anything but. Something about all the training and intense boxing he threw himself into after the couple split. He's now muscles that actually fit his prior-skinny physique, making him look taller and broader, more deliberate and crucial.

"You good?" Zayn asks, sincerely curious as he eyes Niall's sunken collarbones peeking out Zayn's burgundy shirt that the younger boy-- _man's_ wearing. It still takes a minute, a rough minute to come to terms that his little bottle-blonde boy is anything _but_. And it takes even longer to admit he's missed the journey.

"Are _you_ good?" Niall reiterates, frowning questionably as Zayn continues to stare in deep thought.

Zayn nods once, tenses his jaw with a hand moving over Niall's cheek, his pale ear bracketed by tan fingers and a thumb. He smiles slowly when he looks into Niall's eyes, almost smirking with the confusion laced in them.

"'Course m'good. You're coming back, yeah?"

"Well, Harry only has a week before he goes back home, need to finish the shoots. And," he sighs, "Katie, um. You know."

(On the third night, after they came back from Zayn's snowy backyard and huddled in front of the heater for warmth, Niall got a call, an urgent one from his mother. It was the third time she tried reaching him, the phone neglected on the coffee table for hours on end.

Zayn gave him the privacy he didn't need to ask for, left him out on the cold balcony as he made ginger tea for them and waited in the living room, only for Niall to curl next to him and press his face into Zayn's neck, not speaking until his beverage cooled down.

"Katie's not doing good," he murmured, before he hugged him tightly, releasing overdue gratitude in the form of a heartfelt embrace.

"Niall--?"

"Thank you, though," he interrupted, not wanting to answer anything. "She's only lived this long because of you. Should've _been_ thanked you, but," he shrugged, stopping a hiccup midway from the news.

"Baby, what are you talking about?"

"I know," he started, moving back to press the heels of his palms against his eyes. "Like, you were the one who made that donation years ago. Right after we," he shuddered, not needing to finish. Zayn gently gripped his wrists, pried his hands down to witness red-rimmed blue eyes.

"Niall, look at me. What's going on? What--" he stopped, loosening his hands with the realization. "Oh. Oh shit, babe." He let Niall cover his eyes again, let him choke back sobs as Zayn pulled him closer, petted his hair till the cries subsided and Niall murmured _thank you_ s repeatedly.)

"I know," Zayn nods quickly, zipping Niall's jacket, up to his chin. Niall raises his head, making sure the zipper doesn't pinch his skin when Zayn leans down to kiss him once, twice, a fourth time until Niall laughs like the man wants him to.

"I gotta go," he complains, all the while pulling Zayn closer.

"You're the one who decided to take public transportation. I can personally book a private plane if you want, you know that," he pouts.

"But I _don't_ want that," he half-smiles, grazing fingertips over Zayn's stubble. God, he missed that stubble. He missed the facial hair and the eyelashes and his eyes that never looked so soft as they did now. He missed his full lips that quirked under his pale touch, the way it formed into an effortless smolder when he deeply spoke on the phone. He missed his hands and his legs and his inked skin and he missed he missed he missed.

But he _missed_. Past tense. He doesn't have to _miss_ anymore. Because maybe he's going back home to finish an album and sure, Zayn has to attend shoots for their new vehicle commercial for the next three weeks. And yeah, they might miss each other during this period and during other future reunions that are blocked from them. But Zayn's the one who firmly said he'll visit Niall the moment he can, that he already can't wait to see him again ("I'm still here," Niall rolled his eyes. "And I miss you already," Zayn semi-joked), that he already scheduled to have nineteen days off after this project. Nineteen days for Niall and Niall _only_ , he stressed. And Niall couldn't reply if he wanted to, was only able to soak Zayn in, soak in every pore and asset and drown in it all.

He still hasn't resurfaced.

"I'll miss you," Zayn whispers, _again_. "I just got you back, and. Feels like you're leaving. For a long time or summat," he lightly laughs, trying to make it less serious than what it is. But Niall sees through it.

"You do know you're driving me to the airport, yeah?" he chuckles. "And I am going to wait for you back home. I won't leave again, all right?" he adds when Zayn still doesn't seem convinced. Zayn only blinks repeatedly, emotionless as his grip on Niall's leather collar tightens. "Won't ever leave again," he voices lowly, stepping closer to grasp all of Zayn's attention because the man's resolve is slightly chipping off the edges, showing the everpresent hesitant being that inhabited his skin for almost a week already.

"I love you so so much, please know that. Like, Niall, I know you mean this all now--"

"Zayn," Niall remarks, the epitome of shock that Zayn would bring up such a thing.

"--But when you get back home you, you might really think this all through and realize. I don't know, that none of this is worth it--"

" _Zayn!_ "

"--I sound like a pathetic shit, I know, but I don't give a fuck. I don't," he retorts, but his eyes are drooped low and his mouth curved down. "If it comes down to that--"

"I'm not listening to this."

" _If it comes down to that_ ," he repeats, letting that simmer for a moment, "I need you to try again."

"Zayn," he forces, trying not to frown or seem weak. "Zayn, this is unnecessary."

"I need you to think of me, as selfish as that sounds. I need you to do that. And I need you to keep going, keep thinking until you _want_ it again. Want _this_ again because--" he licks his lips, scrunching his eyebrows with a deep breath. "You don't know how fucked up I was, Niall. I never thought it could hurt that bad."

"I _do_ know," Niall informs, blood thrumming under his skin from Zayn's idiocy that the blond can't help but feel sorry for. "I was affected, too, you know."

"But you weren't me, Niall. _I_ wasn't even me," he tries to laugh, pushing his hair back to stand more tall. "Just do that. Please? I'm asking nicely, spoiled brat," he smirks.

"I'm not going anywhere," Niall answers, tapping Zayn's cheek lightly, marveling all over again with the fact he's _there_. "I'll keep that in mind if you do, too. About me."

Zayn just looks down at him, lets Niall continue his touch across his stubble to form the right words.

"I never _went_ anywhere. Not _ever_ going anywhere."

 

  
"You," Louis starts, smirking slowly, holding up an issue, "have your own little article."

"Pardon?" Niall asks, trying to pay attention to the guys sitting at the edge of a two-story house and Louis at the same time.

"Harry can handle them. Let the professionals do their job," Louis sighs, pushing the magazine into Niall's chest.

"I'm still mad at you for last time, Lou. You caused some deep shit."

"Yeah, whatever. Look at the paper!"

Niall glares momentarily, waiting for Louis to look at him before facing the page in front of him and

Yeah. That's definitely him.

That's definitely him?

"That's me?" he asks, bringing the paper closer before exclaiming, "holy shit, that's me!" But then gears start turning in his head as he continues his absorption of the grainy photo, an evident photo of him _and_ Zayn, the day he arrived at the airport. It's initmate, the way Niall's bare arms are encasing Zayn's torso and the man has his hands bordering Niall's face as they look at each other. "Holy shit, that's me," he wonders in awe, but, "Wait, why is this even here?!"

Louis flutters his eyelids in annoyance, snatching the book back as he clears his throat.

"Successor and son of late Yaser Malik, founder of the unprecedentedly successful Noble Automobile Company, Zayn Malik (37), was spotted warmly embracing a close 'friend' of his as they arrived at the airport. (Pictures above.) Niall Horan (26), manager of aspiring punk band 5 Seconds of Summer, was seen touching--caressing, ahem--the older man's face after they pulled apart, still keeping a close distance as Malik kept his arms around the young man. Witnesses say the two even kissed briefly multiple times before rushing off? This seems to only raise (and confirm!) the put-to-rest rumors of our young CEO romancing with someone his junior. And a male, at that! Sources found the unidentified blonde to be one of Malik's longlasting paramours years before taking over the business.

"But weren't Zayn and Aleah Simmons (31), famous Brazilian dancer, engaged and happy just the week before? (Picture below.) No one has heard from Simmons herself, but a close friend of the dancer says she's keeping quiet on the matter. Is our sophisticated, quiet-mouthed heartthrob an advocate of infidelity?"

"You talk too fucking much," Niall only responds, already turning around to walk away because holy fucking _shit_ , he did _not_ want to be in a shitty tabloid. Especially one where he seemed like the bad one in all of it and fucking hell since when do gossip magazines focus on strict CEOs of car companies?

"Since one of them are rumored to be cheating. So scandalous, I _love_ it," Louis cheers, reading the _rest_ of the article to himself. "Oooo," he coos, "there's a three-page article on you, man! They put the pic that you uploaded on Instagram, remember? About fucking during camping. Zayn has great sex hair, though."

"Who has great sex hair?" Harry asks, eyeing Louis intently. They're not at their greatest state, but after Niall came home and personally told them of his and Zayn's newfound (oldfound?) relationship of sorts, they mustered their differences and spent approximately three hours demanding Niall to tell them all that went down, after they congratulated him and squeezed him in the middle of an unplanned group hug.

"Oh, just Zayn."

"Yeah, he does have great sex hair."

"Who has great sex hair?" Ashton asks, and Niall only groans, going to grab the booklet off of Louis before it all got out of hand. But Louis skips away and shoves the paper into Ashton's arms, ordering him to read it and _our little Nialler's in a scandallll_.

"You shouldn't be so supportive about cheating, Louis," Niall spits. It's the first time Louis' smile falls when he looks at Niall. And Niall suddenly notices what he just said out loud, goes to apologize when Louis smirks gently, shrugs like _what can you do?_

"Never said I supported it, mate. Just like the fact I can tell people my best friend's in a mag."

"Hey! They mentioned us!" Calum exclaims, holding the book open so the four of them can pile closely and read at different speeds. Michael's the first one done, looks up at Niall disappointedly and walks away.

Niall's not stupid, he knows Michael doesn't like Zayn, might not ever like Zayn. But he didn't expect to feel as shitty as he does when the currently-bluehead boy walks away, doesn't look back when he shrugs his guitar strap and leaves without a farewell to anyone.

Niall goes to call him, raises a hand and is inhaling when his phone rings. It's Zayn, the new caller ID photo of the fourth night Niall stayed, inked arms folded behind black hair as lazy eyes look down, smile ever so genuine. And well, Niall's still not used to Zayn calling him, on his _phone_ that the man's neglected for so long.

Niall picks up without a thought.

 

 

 

"So fucking cold here," Zayn stutters, teeth chattering as he enters Niall's home, holding the duffel bag closer for warmth.

"Well. _Still_ cold here," Niall laughs, going over to take the bag and set it on the counter, going back to hug Zayn in greeting.

"Hey," Zayn stops him, nudging the blond with his shoulder to look up at him. "Gimme a kiss."

Niall stops, a bit knackered as Zayn waits. It still takes him back, back when he was twenty-one in his first real relationship with the man. He has to breathe deeply and keep his gears stabled, keep _himself_ stabled. He's still not used to Zayn wanting him, wanting every bit of him that's left and Niall has to breathe deeply to remind himself this is all real. Zayn wants him just as much as he does.

Niall smiles softly, leans in and kisses Zayn tenderly, tasting the cold on his lips and intently breathing his scent in. He would never get used to this.

Zayn shudders an inhale when Niall pulls back, keeps his eyes closed and steadies himself before reeling Niall back in, catching another unprepared kiss quickly.

"God, I'll never get used to that," he shakes his head, opening his eyes slowly.

Niall imagines his feet being firmed into cement, encasing them completely before he's plunged into a sea. And the sea's thicker than usual as it pulls him lower, pulls him under the pressure till his skin expands and lets the water seep inside. He feels like he's going to explode soon, the current continuing to chill his bones in a burning manner he can't explain; would never be able to explain.

That's how Zayn makes him feel. It's so powerful, is the thing. Sometimes he's drowning. Other times he's burning alive and occasionally he's melting into a pulp, stretching at the seams as if he's limitless. He wonders if Zayn ever feels like him, if there are times he can't even form a thought because every space is filled with a pounding relentless thrumming. It's so powerful it's _alive_ , its own aura of its own personal color that's just theirs, just ZaynandNiall. Just _there_.

"Ma wants to see you," Niall eventually blurts, warmly ripping apart with the way Zayn's staring at him. "Ma and. Katie, too. And Louis, he's gonna kill you, so."

"What did I do this time?" Zayn smirks.

"Who cares, c'mere." He pulls Zayn in lightly, chin on his shoulder as he hugs him snugly. He won't say it, because it's unnecessary. But there were nights Zayn forgot to say good night and mornings he woke up without a text during the last few weeks and they steered him off the wrong edge. Plucked him without warning and left him to stumble endlessly without a reason why. He didn't tell a soul, but the belief that maybe _Zayn_ was the one who contemplated and came to the conclusion that it wasn't all worth it invaded his thoughts unusually often. It left him bare and void of settled emotions, only ice taken residence with an intent on breaking Niall down.

He didn't tell a soul, but Zayn rubs his back and kisses his temple, leaves his lips there as he whispers tenderly.

"I promised I was going to."

 

  
There's something with this specific return of Zayn that more pieces fall into place, lock into their positions and lodge close together to deflect any negative block attempting to take its place.

Zayn stays all of the nineteen days, and with the exception of Theo's room they christen every room, fill every knick and crevice with the emotions pooling off of them. They binge watch on every shitty show they used to watch before and laugh at how bland it all seems now. Niall pleads and even pouts as he asks Zayn if they could watch the Twilight marathon. And of course Zayn agrees, but after he rolls his eyes and groans. And when the part comes on, Niall flops onto Zayn's lap and demands with a filthy roll of his hips for him to repeat after Edward.

"No."

"Please?" he purrs, rolling down even slower than before. "C'mon you're gonna miss it, babe. Babe, please? Baaaaaaaaabe--"

"And so the lion fell in love with the lamb," he huffs in sync with Edward, blushing darkly with a hand over his face from Niall's efforts. "Happy?"

"Ecstatic," Niall bites his lip, a hand already down Zayn's pants.

Niall wakes up and Zayn's _there_ , pressed into the pillow, somewhere in his third or hundredth dream. But he's also with Niall, how his arm tightens instantly when Niall jostles quietly to grab his phone. They spent that morning looking up sad videos, for a reason Zayn would never explain considering he woke up around the fifth video Niall was seeing that consisted of soldiers coming home to their families.

Zayn wakes up first sometimes and cooks the biggest breakfast the small kitchen can hold. If he's honest, there are times he's tempted to check his phone. To see if the charts rose or lowered. To find out if the surplus of vehicles shipped to Moscow arrived conveniently. To check with his receptionist if the call he's been waiting weeks for has came in.

But then Niall walks in, making a ruckus of noise in his dazed state, sleeve-covered hand rubbing his eyes as he finds the buffet waiting for him.

Zayn forgets about his phone until the night, until he's too drained to unlock the screen.

He stays and meets Maura and Katie, kisses their cheeks and nods respectfully and answers clearly when asked a question. He laughs with Katie and pulls Maura aside at one point, leaves Niall with his sister to speak privately.

He doesn't tell Niall a word, nor does his mam. But he assures the blond in time all will be revealed.

The rumors of them are still skyrocketing, purging the previous gossip trends as they take many media programs' attention. And Zayn attends his first late night show, with the illusion he's promoting his latest model, yet he's not stupid. They're only focused on his little (always little) boyfriend and he's tired of Niall biting his nails off with the constant belief that he's a homewrecker.

They're in the states, Niall tucked in a blanket in front of the TV alone as he watches his man on the screen sit comfortably on the two-seat couch, shaking the host's hand casually. Niall knows he's uncomfortable, out of his element but even he can barely pick up the traits of uncertainty.

Zayn's so _serious_ all throughout. And it's so fucking _sexy_. Holy _shit_ , he's so _good-looking_. Niall's fanning himself, literally flapping a hand in front of his face pathetically as he's alone because Jesus Christ Lord and Savior The Holy Trinity Zayn's never looked so good than he does now. And that's all _Niall's_. He's the one Zayn comes back to and he's the one Zayn's crazy for and he's the one Zayn would do just about anything for and God, Niall wants to suck his dick so bad right now.

Zayn chuckles shortly when the crowd laughs. Nods appreciatively when he's congratulated about the success of the business. He cracks a heartfelt smile when Sean Redd brings up a photo of his father. (Niall suddenly with a passion wishes he was there, knows it's taking all of Zayn's composure to not react with the way his jawline is tensing.) It's near the end of his time that they ask him about Niall. And Zayn told the blond himself that that was likely to happen, that they were such a popular topic to discuss and given it's his first interview the viewers were gonna soar, and the show needed to keep the viewer rate up all through it.

They ask him subtly, if Zayn's seeing someone. And Zayn nods curtly but gives a half-smile.

"I'm sure you know exactly who _he_ is," he answers when Redd asks if he's willing to share the identity of the person.

"Well you, sir, are as straightforward as they come, I'm impressed," Redd laughs, and again Zayn only smirks and rubs his chin. "Now, if I may, we all know you were engaged to Brazil's sweetheart Aleah Simmons right before you started this new relationship with a man. Any words on that?"

"Uh," Zayn sighs, leaning back and opening his legs more comfortably. "Aleah was great, is still an amazing girl, but um. We're still friends," he concludes, eyeing Redd, daring him to continue. Redd looks away and cracks a joke, emitting more laughter to spill.

"Tell me, Zayn, who is this Niall Horan? He seems to be the talk all over the place."

Zayn looks to the floor, scratches behind his ear before turning to the screen behind them. It's an accidental photo of him and Niall, the blond evidently laughing into the man's chest as Zayn looks down with a chuckle of his own. Zayn smirks at the taken picture, chuckles himself because he remembers what they were laughing at.

"Niall is his own person. We met a long time ago, were together for four years before we eventually split, um." He clears his throat. "We managed to meet again and, uh. Here he is," he laughs, laughs for the first time.

"Four years, wow! Long time, that. Well, you seem happy and that's good."

"More happy than I've been in years, yes," he slightly smiles, trying to stop it from becoming a full-blown beam.

"And he feels the same, I hope?"

"....Yes," Zayn nods slowly. "I honestly believe he's the love of my life and I believe even more that those feelings are returned."

"Best of luck to you, Zayn, you deserve it," Redd pats his hand. "Last thing, before we cut to commercial. Niall. He's a man. When did you discover you were gay, or bisexual, if I can ask?"

Zayn grins tightly, rests his arms on the armrests as he mulls over his answer.

"I wouldn't be able to answer that, Sean. I'm simply a man in love with another man."

 

 

"Is it possible to fall in love all over again?" Niall murmurs into Zayn's neck, bubbly water coming up to his chin.

 "Mmm. I believe so. I'm a victim to that," he humorously implies, arms stretched across the lip of the semi-sphere tub.  

"You were so hot on TV," Niall pouts. "God, I just wanted to suck you dry and you weren't here."

"You're going to kill me, I'm sure of it," Zayn laughs, rubbing his face. The water slides down his forearm, drips off his elbow that's raised a few inches above the surface. Even this gesture is so fucking hot on Zayn, so damn attractive and he's all _Niall's_. And just two months ago he _wasn't_. Someone _else_ was getting all of this and Niall mentally kicks himself, can't believe he almost let this go again for someone else to take.

"Who else were you with?" he blurts out of nowhere, causing a timid silence.

"Um... what?"

"You know," Niall taps his shoulder, leaves his fingers there. "Who else were you with besides Aleah? Or was it only her?"

"No, it wasn't," he shakes his head, furrows his brows. "Wasn't only her, uh. What suddenly piqued your interest in that?" he asks shakingly, trying to ease an easy laugh that trembles.

Niall smiles adoringly, caresses the man's face because he's flushing with embarrassment when he shouldn't.

"C'mon, I just wanna know. Please? I won't bring this up again, obviously."

"Obviously," Zayn repeats to himself with amusement. "For some reason, I don't believe that."

"Well I promise not to ever bring this up again, there. I'll tell you my list, if you want."

"Why would I want that?" Zayn asks appalled with disgust, leaning back to eye Niall like the boy's crazy. He only rolls his eyes when Niall shrugs, bites his lip in thought.

"I fucked a girl two weeks after we broke up," he starts, intently thinking. "I had sex with a girl the next weekend. I fucked one of my workers after that. She was going to get the raise, anyway, but. I took the opportunity." He gnaws on his bottom lip, doesn't realize Niall's gone dead silent. "I brought another girl home whose father tested the latest model of ours. Uh," he prolongs. "Can't remember those in between, but when I visited Brazil because some shit car rental dealer complained about scratches on a car I met Aleah and..." he shrugs. "If m'being honest, she was the only one who actually made me think of you the least. She's a harlot, not gonna lie," he chuckles. "A damn gold digger, but. Couldn't let her go."

Niall's seated next to him, focusing on large bubbles that sway in front of them. The water's hot and he feels like he's burning in the bathroom, wants to leave immediately.

"S'hot in here," he mutters, pushing his hair back as he looks around for the robe. "Gonna... Can't take the heat, I'll meet you in bed."

"O--" Niall climbs out instantly, finds the closest garment to wrap around his dripping lowerhalf as he walks away, droplets marking his trail. "--kay..."

Zayn stares blankly ahead, listens to the slam of a door being shut and counts to ten, calls himself a dumbass since this was bound to happen.

Niall's lacing his sneakers on his lap, putting the cleaned shoelaces through the loops with concentration matted across his forehead.

"You going to bed?" Zayn asks cautiously, finds spotless briefs and pulls them on.

"No."

"Hmm," Zayn thinks, looks around the room for inspiration. "Well I am, my back's been killing me."

"Don't sleep on it."

It could be worse, Zayn reasons. Niall could splurge on sarcasm, won't stop until Zayn's provoked enough to lash back at him. Or he could leave, which is the absolute worst. So Zayn slowly crawls into bed, kisses Niall's neck to test the waters and--

"I thought you were going to bed," he says, not responding to Zayn's actions.

"Niall," Zayn sighs, rubbing his face as he groans. "Babe, look at me. Please."

"I'm busy," he retorts, but he turns to glare at him.

"Don't do this."

"I'm not doing anything."

"Yes, you are. Because if you actually weren't, you'd ask why the fuck I'm asking you this with a laugh before going back to what you're doing. You're being all passive aggressive, I know you."

"I said I'm busy. You're talking shit."

"Talk to me. If I'm talking shit, then tell me what's on your mind right now."

That does it. Niall stops mid-lace, grips the string in his hand before dropping it all on his lap at once.

"I can't. I promised I won't bring it up."

"I revoke that promise, then."

Niall has the courtesy to laugh, but he's frowning so it sounds weird and misplaced.

"Talk to me," Zayn repeats urgently, but his hand's gripping Niall's elbow softly, prying the boy to come closer.

Niall stays where he is, taps his head to Zayn's shoulder in apology before looking away, bringing his knees to his chest.

"You wanted to forget me."

"Pardon?"

Niall turns to him slowly, tries to school a scowl but only ends up looking sad.

"You went so low as to propose to someone, just to forget me."

It sounds so much darker put that way. Sounds ugly and revolting and downright shameful.

"Don't say it like that."

"No other way to say it, am I right?" Niall smiles too big, raises his eyebrows. "Not like another way will change the intent, right?"

"I didn't know what else to do, Niall."

"You weren't supposed to do that!" Niall screams, looks at him fully. "Fuck your brains out, learn a new language, fucking skydive for a living. But you don't do that!"

"All right, Niall, you're one to talk!" he replies loudly. "It hurt. It was all too fucking much and I did the easiest thing. Whether it was smart or not, it worked!"

They're glaring at each other, but after Zayn inhales Niall's face falls, slumps his shoulders and hangs his mouth.

Niall gets up, lets his shoes fall on the floor as he gets to the door and pulls it open, slams it shut before Zayn can process what's going on.

And when Zayn finally does he's alone and Niall left. He's not _there_ , and the last time he wasn't there didn't end well. And Zayn's quickly breaking apart, quickly losing air and unable to blink for long until his eyes are stinging from exposure. It's not going to end like this, he tells himself. It's not going to end at _all_ , if he has a say. And he does. He has a _lot_ to say. But right now his baby isn't with him and he's upset and Zayn needs to make sure he's still _there_ , there to _stay_. He doesn't know what to say honestly, Niall asked and he answered as casually as possible. He doesn't know how to bring it up without starting something, still wondering if Niall left for good or--

He finds the blond in the living room, under a blanket as the flat screen blares a sci-fi show he doesn't even like. He deliberately ignores Zayn, doesn't even acknowledge his presence when the man sits by his feet tentatively, arm across the back of the sofa.

"Babe?"

"Go to sleep, Zayn. I'll be fine in the morning."

"I don't _want_ you to be fine in the morning. I want you to be fine now," he murmurs, finding Niall's knee over the blanket. It's the bad knee, and Zayn slowly but surely works his fingers around the area, remembers the knots and spots that soothed under his touch. It must still be effective, because Niall closes his eyes and sighs soothingly, keeps his eyes closed. Zayn's sure he's close to drifting off to sleep, so with the same hand, he moves it over Niall's body until it's at his face, tapping his chin gently. "Babe? C'mon."

"Can't you just go to bed already?" he asks slowly, sitting up but still keeping his distance.

"Depends, are you going to bed with me?"

Niall makes breathing seem laborous, how he inhales deeply and slumps his shoulders with defeat.

"Not tonight, Zayn. Damn, that fucked with my head."

"Well I'm not going anywhere. So..." he makes himself more comfortable, leans back and spreads his arms. He's basically offering himself, really. Niall knows. He looks at Zayn from the corner of his eye before reluctantly plopping down into his lap, face pressed into his inked chest.

"You're such a dick." His voice is muffled by the skin, but Zayn hears him loud and clear.

"I'm not going to act like I'm clueless. But baby, you _did_ ask me to tell you."

Niall just nods, hugs Zayn tighter though he'd rather slap him if he could.

"Can I tell you something?" Zayn suggests cautiously, thumb pushing blonde strands back from Niall's forehead. "It didn't work all the time. I'm sure you know, but. I've always loved you. I still love you, Niall. I don't know why that affects you so much."

"I still love _you_ , Zayn. I'm _here_ with you yet me sleeping with other men before still ticks you off."

Zayn drops his arms, stares down blankly for too long before flaring his nostrils. It's the past, he tries to tell himself. _The past. He's here with me_ , he chants, trying to will the red in his vision to disappear. But unwanted images of Niall with... with _them_ are accompanying the bloody color and he can't help but firm his lips between his teeth to bite back insults.

"Seriously?" he settles on, doesn't hide the angry tremor in his voice. Niall looks up sluggishly, curves an eyebrow at Zayn's demeanor before sitting up, processing the fuck-all fuck off look on the man's face, like he's close to tearing the next person to speak into crimson shreds. "You love talking about that, don't you? You seriously do."

"What are you on about now?" Niall asks.

"Nothing," Zayn spits, looking away to bite the skin around his thumbnail for lack of something to do. His leg's jumping agitatedly, the nerves under the skin lighting up and moving up and down through the vessels. With all the anger inside he could inflame a forest, a whole field of wheats with one swipe. He could light himself on fire and still only feel the shaking coursing beneath his bones.

"Zayn," Niall whispers, "Zayn, I really don't want to argue."

"Yeah, whatever," Zayn grimaces, getting up, causing Niall to flinch at how quickly he walks away, stops at the table a couple steps away.

"Zayn?"

"Why do you continue to bring that up?" Zayn turns to him quickly, stops in the middle of the room to glare at Niall harshly. "What good is that doing, huh? Do you _like_ getting me pissed? Do you secretly get off on how infuriated that makes me?"

"What? No. That's not--"

"So what the fuck does that have to do with this!"

"It's not that! I'm just. Just trying to make a point."

"A point? The only point you've made is bringing up that shit over and over again, Niall."

"Okay, Zayn," Niall whispers, staring at the floor defeatedly. His hands are tucked in his lap, feet on the ground as he continues to look down.

"That's all you have to say? Don't hold back now when you have the opportunity."

"Zayn, calm down. Please."

"No. You want to scream, so can I. Take advantage while you can," he provokes. Niall turns to him, looks away and rubs a thumb onto the other hand's palm harshly, blinking repeatedly as he breathes slightly.

"Stop screaming, please," he begs. "You-- It just reminds me of before. And," he shakes his head. "I don't want to argue. I'm sorry for causing this, I know it's my fault, but. I mean-- I don't want--" he continues to struggle, getting flustered and redder than necessary as Zayn watches.

Zayn sees it all clearly, the missing words Niall can't say. They fall in their correct places and form horribly in his head while Niall continues to stress on the sofa. It's going to get nasty, whatever dilemma they're dealing with at the moment. It's going to grow ugly and only give birth to more unnecessary shit that they don't need right now, don't need ever. What they have is still raw, still bordering on a thin plank, close to tipping over with one wrong or misled move. Whenever they argue Zayn never filters and Niall strives on making his point be heard above all else. If they continue it's not going to lead anywhere pretty, much less insightful. So with a heavy breath to calm the burning in his fingertips, Zayn pushes his hair back, simmers the feeling to pool below his stomach and worry about the boy still fidgeting in front of him.

Eventually Zayn sits down also, sits pressed to Niall as the blond mutters profanity under his breath towards himself.

"I get it, it's fine. And I'm sorry, too. I _am_ a dick," he soothes, rubbing a hand down Niall's arm. "We can still talk about it, if you want."

"Nah, forget it. M'tired."

"I'll carry you to bed," Zayn offers with a reassuring smile, already an arm behind Niall's neck. Niall gives a watery laugh, wipes his face quickly when he turns away. "You're still going to bed with me, right?"

He mulls it over, hunches his back before looking at Zayn. He doesn't stand a chance, anyway.

"Yeah. 'Course I am."

"But are you good?" Zayn furrows his brows, stands in front of Niall to stop him from going to the bedroom. "If it's still bothering you, we'll talk. I promise I won't be upset or get annoyed, babe. Don't sleep on it, though," he whispers. "It'll only be worse tomorrow."

Zayn looks down at him genuinely, like he's really trying to let Niall know just how okay he is with discussing this. Hell, Zayn'd rather let fire burn around them as they argue than for Niall to go to bed with an itch in the back of his mind, only for the parasite to scratch its way into his thoughts the moment he wakes up. Niall knows this also, knows Zayn would let Niall pour his heart out with no interruptions if it meant it'll be resolved.

But Niall looks at Zayn and he is good. It stings, like a minor blow across his chest when he-- Fucking pictures it all in his head. It hurts and already has the tips of his fingers twitching and the back of his neck hot. But things the blond committed still eats at Zayn, and Niall knows this. And if he didn't before he sure as hell found out not five minutes ago. And not everything is fixed and not all the time will be good. But right now he is because Zayn still loves him, always loved him, no matter what.

And that's still a lot to take in, to reel inside and keep it composed for himself and himself only. It's more than a lot, more than enough and Niall can't see an end to this omnipotent feeling chilling his bones and igniting his skin at the same time.

"Yeah. I'm good." He kisses Zayn, fully, lets him know just how good he really is.

 

 

There are last-minute runs. There are dates cut short. There are empty nights and pitied arguments and close calls in the course of the next couple months.

Niall has to cancel his week to go see Zayn because a fucking nude leaks, and Calum's the _fucking_ dumbass to comfirm it instead of letting the rumor drift around. He has to return calls and _make_ calls, make sure their label doesn't get rid of them since the sales have plummeted drastically. He has to delete useless voicemails which--literally--takes a rough hour, subsequently missing Zayn's call before the man has to board a plane to Russia, no stops along the way, disabling contact for more than twelve hours.

Then Zayn bails last minute when Niall's made reservations at a posh restaurant more than two months ago, something about the leather company he works with rescheduling the conference for the next day. And Niall doesn't hear from Zayn again until five days later because the man booked a flight at the last moment to a country with the worst reception on the whole planet (statistically).

But then, "Please don't be mad at me," Niall pleads through the phone, frantic with Zayn's silence. "This is way bigger than I thought and the press are being shits about it all and--" Zayn cuts him off, reluctantly says it's okay and reassures Niall that he understands, just wants to spend the last few minutes talking calmly before Zayn's due for a hearing.

And at that instant, "Baby, I didn't even cancel the flight, my assisstant did and she didn't even tell me until I was already driving to the airport. Fuck, I'm so pissed right now, I didn't do this," and Niall lets him continue for a second, rolls his eyes fondly with a frown before interrupting that he knows the deal, knows Zayn was looking forward to seeing him maybe a slab bit more. (But Niall would never admit that.)

 

 

One time Zayn surprises Niall, comes up behind the blond as he's intently focusing on Michael singing on the other side of the glass window. They decided to record the four of them seperately, let their voices get recognition individually before morphing them on the actual track. It's more difficult than Niall initially planned, how mindless he can become when it all blends perfectly. But then their vocal manager stops the track and rewinds it, replays slower where Calum's falsetto did kind of steer unpleasantly too high.

It's why he ignores his surroundings during each of their sessions, listens with every sense for a crack or rushed inhale; why he doesn't notice an extra presence in the room until someone's chest is hovering against his back.

"What the--" he curses, turning to have Zayn press a kiss to his lips in greeting.

"God, I missed that. How long has it been, exactly?" he questions, having the air pushed out of him when Niall turns around and properly hugs him, arms and legs around Zayn's frame.

"Zayn! Oh my-- I missed you so much, how did you get here?"

"Oh, you know, I swam. Walked the rest of the way," Zayn shrugs, hands under Niall's bum. There are people present, people clearing their throats and others smiling uncomfortably as they look away from the couple. But neither Niall nor Zayn are at fault when they're still not used to the lovely turmoil inside them in the face of their absolute lover.

Niall bats Zayn's shoulder from his sarcasm, leaves it there when Zayn laughs at the gesture. There are still people around, and the surrounding witnesses are trying to keep occupied to not intrude but it's difficult when their unbottled affection is pulling everything towards them, like they can't help but glance repeatedly.

"Hi," Niall says lightly, his smile a total contrast.

"Hey," Zayn responds, lazy smile on display. "Surprise!" he whispers when Niall's too preoccupied to respond.

"How long?" Niall eventually asks, and Zayn knows what he's talking about.

"Five days. If you'll actually let me make a few calls during I can push it for seven."

"Seven, it is," he answers immediately, can't help but pass a fingertip down the bridge of Zayn's nose, making sure he's _there_.

They finish up, and Niall idly walks into the booth Michael's in, making sure he makes his presence known. Zayn is talking on the other side of the wall with the studio owner and Mariah, their vocal coach. At this point, they might know everything about Zayn. Not 'cause his profession, but Niall speaks avidly about him like he's the latest greatest book or the best action film of the year.

"Hey, man," Niall says, clapping his hands once in front of him.

"S'up," Michael responds, turning away to unwrap earphones around his iPod. It's not a question, so Niall doesn't know how to follow that up.

"Um." He claps again, links his hands and moves his jaw around. "Wanna head over to mine?"

"No."

"Mikey--"

"Niall. I know where this is going," he retorts, looking at Niall evenly. "No."

"You've never even met him!" Niall laughs, wants Michael to love him, too. The rest of the guys met him, even like him now. But when an opportunity comes, Michael's busy or doesn't answer his phone until it's too late.

"Exactly. I don't want to."

"Why not?"

"I'm going to pretend you don't actually mean that."

"Well, pretend I _do_. Would you answer then, huh?"

Michael licks his lips, blinks once before strolling over to Niall, keeping his voice low even though they're already alone.

"He broke your heart more than once," he starts, towers over Niall. "He broke your heart practically every fucking day. With every new car release, unread message, unreturned call. Fuck, Niall," he scolds, running a hand through crimson hair, the color of his angry face, "You had Tove Lo's _Habits_ on repeat for weeks. And I literally mean _weeks_. Two months, if I'm right."

Niall remembers, remembers breathing in the bridge of that song like a lifeline, how nothing else rang with the truth as much as those four lines. It's still so potent, the feeling of drowning under that song that he catches the middle of Michael's next words.

"...didn't know what the _fuck_ to do half the time. I'll be damned if that happens again."

"It won't happen again," Niall blurts, knows what he's referring to. It _can't_ happen again. Not because Niall can't imagine going through that excruciating process all over again (though it's partial). But because they both know what it's like to lose, to gain and still not feel satiated, like being given a beautiful paperweight with no significant letters to place under it. They've experienced horrid shit they wish upon no one. They've experienced years without the other and that's the last thing they want to happen again; nothing's more scary than that.

"Yeah," Michael scoffs, looks away. "Yeah, it better fucking not. But still." He looks down at Niall, smiles gently though his eyes are still filled with animosity. His mouth curves on one side as he fistbumps Niall's shoulder and Niall gets a funny feeling in his stomach.

"Michael?" he asks hesitantly, rubbing his forhead as the sudden thought takes form in his head at an unsettling pace. "Michael, you're not..." he starts, rubs his arm. "You know, um. Are you in-- Do you think-- I don't know, do you like--"

"Oh my God," Michael interrupts, bulging his eyes. "Holy shit, _no_. No, no, no! That is _not_ it! I don't-- Fuck, I am _not_ in love with you, Niall." Niall sighs, relaxed, hangs his head in glee before shaking his head, needing to hear that. "Wouldn't even kiss you if I had the chance, mate. You're cute, but I don't roll that way."

"Fuck, sorry for even suggesting that," he swallows, shakes his head again.

"Yeah, you should be, arrogant prick," he chuckles.

 

 

 

Michael never fully subsides, but can't help but crack a smile when Calum casually suggests an orgy with his boyfriend, the blond and Zayn, causing the man to flush and fluster over words as everyone politely laughs at his embarassment.

He soon can't help _but_ smile at Zayn, he's contantly around. And Zayn always shakes his hand in greeting and respectfully listens when Michael's talking and occasionally gives his input when it's beneficial. Michael can't bring himself to scold him, honestly. Zayn always brings good points and he's the smartest one in the room and he looks at Niall like the blond holds all good and harmony in his hands, like he's gifted Zayn all his riches and fortunes; it's kind of accurate, also. So there comes a time he drops his pride and settles back, smiles when Niall sags in relief with it all.

Waliyha is the same, too; the only one from the bunch who solely glares or scowls whenever Niall visits the family. And Niall takes this drastically personally, but Zayn brushes it off, caresses a thumb down Niall's face in front of them all to let everyone know who's his priority.

The thing is Zayn's family are all _so nice_. And Niall had in mind that they were going to brush him off, throw implications in his presence that he's not wanted, would never be wanted in the family again. But when he sees them for the first time after years Trisha hugs him so tightly, doesn't let go until Safaa and Jawaad are complaining about wanting to hug him also. Doniya looks the same and her kids remember him and Zayn stays by his side the whole time. But Waliyha's always been straightforward, greeted him with an appraising look before walking away, causing tension to soak the room heavily.

Niall doesn't blame her, so he doesn't say anything. Just smiles when she's in view and looks away before he registers her countenance. She's the only one indifferent with him. He even learns Yaser never held him accountable for Zayn's slight turmoil back when the couple were still together yet hanging by a thread, just supported his son and prayed he got better. That seems to soften Waliyha, when Zayn brings up that fact, that she has no reason to hold anything against him when their father never did. Niall doesn't know about their discussion, which is why he freezes when Waliyha hugs him shortly the next time he visits, pulls back with a tight smile before walking away. Niall's still frozen, watches Waliyha walk away with the baggage he held since she began neglecting him.

Zayn's there when Niall's a sea away from Theo, the blond relenting to watch _The Iron Giant_ with a blank face all throughout. The tan man doesn't even say anything, just curves Niall into his chest and struggles to comfort him when Niall whimpers the only wish he has is that they would've met, because he can still picture them colliding so beautifully.

Niall hugs Zayn from behind when it's his father's disappearance anniversary, five years down. Zayn blinks harshly and pinches the bridge of his nose minutely, tries not to let anyone see how much it still hurts him, that his old man wasn't even given an appropriate burial, that his jovial body was never found. But when they get home, Niall runs them a bath and massages Zayn's shoulders, back, abdomen, doesn't go farther than that when he knows Zayn isn't mentally competent to cooperate.

They have their biggest argument since their reunion when they're at opposite sides of the world, Niall arriving home from visiting Katie at the hospital.

"Call me when you actually have time for your fucking boyfriend then!" Niall hangs up after the heated discussion, turns off his phone to flop onto the bed, knackered beyond relief. They are nearing her last days, and whenever Zayn has a chance to stop by he brings up the shittiest excuse and Niall doesn't even know why.

Truth is Zayn doesn't want Niall to waste time on him when Katie needs all the attention she can get. Zayn misses him wholly, and they've only been seperated for close to two months, but if Niall so much as dotes a day to Zayn the blond will take it upon himself to make it up to his little sister tenfold, and it's taking a toll on his health; the extended hours he stays with her, to come home and tediously work on the guys' next album, only to wake up in a few hours to quickly settle in the studio before rushing to Katie again, all in the same cycle.

But Niall only hears the pause as Zayn mulls over a new reason, can practically see him scratching the back of his head in thought. And that's not Zayn's intentions _at all_.

Which is why he visits without warning, hasn't even contacted Niall since that forsaken phone call two days ago. It's the dawn hours of the morning, Niall's still asleep, and with the extra key he invites himself in, has it all planned.

It's not anything extravagant, honestly. Just a simple cooked breakfast and a serious talk, laying down the reason behind it all. When Niall finds him, already sitting at the table, he does feel elated, feels this is the best surprise since Theo drew a picture of him for Father's Day, the boy appreciating his uncle as well. And after Niall eats on Zayn's lap and they kiss for a while, Zayn explains it all, blushes when he brings his intentions up and stutters over an apology, saying it was all a misunderstanding and that he won't do it again, only if Niall promises to balance everything.

Niall does, and Zayn pecks him once, pulls back with a glint in his eyes.

"I got something for you, too," he smirks. And Niall, still so modest, punches him and looks around for an evident bag that might hold the treasure. "Calm down," Zayn laughs. "And here, it's outside." He slowly pulls a set of keys out of his pocket and. And Niall--

Niall knows that logo anywhere.

"No," he shakes his head, gobsmacked as Zayn presses a button on the chain, causing a double beep from outside.

"Drove it here, myself. Runs so smoothly, baby," Zayn smiles evilly, and Niall runs and trips his way over to the front door, all the while exclaiming _no no no nO NO!_

A car's parked in the front, a flawless, black fucking _sportscar_ is in front of Niall's house, and if he's correct it's for _him_.

"It's for--?"

Zayn nods, bites his lip in glee as Niall gapes and turns back to the vehicle.

"A 458 Spider," Zayn adds, giggling himself as Niall practically lays on the black beauty, figuratively drooling and bellowing incoherence when he sees it at all angles.

It's so fast Zayn doesn't even see it, more feels the impact when Niall throws himself on him, squeezing the man with all four limbs as Zayn struggles to breathe.

"You could've-- You didn't need to-- Since when did you--" Niall begins and ends each question, opening his mouth to only close it again, beaming down at Zayn as the man holds him up, caresses the back of his thigh as the other grips tightly.

Zayn only shrugs again, looks down Niall's body and thinks he could get used to this, for a very long time and not be bothered.

"Felt like buying you something. Had the means to buy this so I did."

"I love you. Christ, Zayn, I love you so much. I couldn't--" he shake his head, laughs surprisingly. "Oh my God, thank you so much. Thank _you_. Thank you thank you thank you..." he continues, kissing all over Zayn's face he can reach.

"You're welcome. And I love you more," Zayn mumbles between Niall's pecks to his mouth.

"Strange," Niall mutters, feeling a lock of black hair between his fingers. "Could've given me a Noble. Would've been easier and it's the thought that counts."

"'Course I could've easily gotten you a Noble. Which is why I didn't."

The happiness last a while, and Niall takes Zayn out all over Ireland in his new toy and wakes him up with blowjobs that have the man tensing long after he comes and always tells him just how beautiful he is when Zayn's close to drifting off.

But then Niall gets the call, and Zayn knows what it is with the way Niall's face blanks and doesn't respond, only hangs up the phone and puts it down. Niall's quiet, looks down at his hand before making a fist, loosening it to grip his elbow, swallowing tensely with a shuddering breath and Zayn can already see the tear ducts working behind his eyes.

Zayn doesn't think, strides over and hugs Niall to him, one arm around his back and the other's hand framing the back of Niall's head, pulling him as close as possible, letting him know just how _there_ he is, that he's not going to leave like last time.

Niall only gasps, instantly grips Zayn's shirt and tugs, doesn't even know what for. He's breathing roughly, feels suffocated but only pulls Zayn towards him more, like he'll cover the images pouring through his mind. It doesn't work, though. He only grips on tighter, pulls him more in and doesn't realize he's leaving painful marks on Zayn's waist, lowerback, stomach.

"It was just an hour ago," he stammers, looking ahead blankly. "She was alone."

"Niall," Zayn tries to warn, but it only comes pathetically. This is what he didn't want, for Niall to blame himself.

"Ma was at the pharmacy, Zayn. Picking up her medicine and she was alone."

Zayn doesn't respond, knows he wouldn't be heard, anyway, when Niall starts sobbing and wailing like he's trying to release a demon in the pit of his soul. It's rock bottom from there and Zayn doesn't know how to manage both sides of his life but he does, puts the business in his partner's hand, a loyal man who grew up with his father.

Niall's resistant, a mess and takes more stuff than necessary out on Zayn. But Zayn knows it's only because he's there, that if he was Louis or Michael or anyone else he'd still be this unreasonable. And Zayn keeps that in mind, doesn't want anyone else to witness this side of Niall. It isn't pretty most of the time, but it's raw and poignant and so vulnerable; Zayn wants all of Niall to himself, for himself. Even the worst bits.

As always, Niall does come back to focus, wakes up one morning without feeling like a knife is through his torso and finds Zayn sleeping behind him, tan arm loosely bracketing his pale waist. He's still there, and for once Niall cries for someone else instead of Katie, something else instead of the letter she left him, ending it with _thanks for sticking around 'til the end, with my scales and all._

He focuses on Zayn and devotes the rest of what's left of his energy to him for the remaining days until Zayn leaves again, lets him know just how thankful he is and apologizes profusely for his behavior. And Zayn only gently smiles, tilts his head and says he didn't mind, jokes at least Niall didn't kick him out this time.

Zayn leaves with a kiss that still lingers on his lips, causing the skin to tingle when he touches them. And a promise that the blond will visit the following week, already has his ticket. It hits Zayn suddenly just how much all of this is worth, that he'd take Niall's refusal any day if it meant the outcome is this tremor in his heart, a pain that never felt so good.

 

  
There are snippets of moments that become a part of Niall's favorite memories.

Most of them consist of Zayn, when they met, the first night they slept together and every time Zayn mentioned just how much he loves him. Louis' in the bunch, when they were on the field constantly, the love of their life in the form of a football. Liam's there also, always the cherubic little boy that grew into a burly man. Harry's there and so are bits of Harley and especially Theo and Katie.

Paul gets added into the bunch, one humid afternoon Niall searches for food at the Noble's car shop nearest Zayn's home. He finds the beefy man in the kitchen, ordering people around in his new job he works for _Zayn_.

They talk, after Niall stands bemused looking at him for a while and Paul finds him in that position. They converse and Niall hugs him for too long and Paul tries to seem bothered but he hugs Niall back just as affectionately. Niall learns he moved his career from Ireland to come over here, that the reason Zayn came on the day to the cafe was because him and Paul were scheduled for an informal meeting to become acquainted, see if Zayn approved since he needed a new catering business for his workers.

Niall just gapes and puts the pieces together in his head, that indirectly if it wasn't for the man in front of him, he and Zayn wouldn't be together right now. It makes him smile softly, hug Paul again and mutter sappy shit that erupts chuckles from Paul. He doesn't tell Paul the reason for his sudden confession, rather lets him feel important since he is, takes a photo of them and sends it to the guys back home in a group chat before they make fun of him for hours via text.

Another significant memory that becomes a favorite is when they bump into Harley at a goods store, Niall bantering about a dirty card he threatens to buy for Trisha. She comes up slowly, and Niall only realizes she's there after Zayn looks behind him with confusion matted over his eyebrows.

"Harley!" he beams, rushing over to her instantly, her golden hair cut in layers with deep blue eyeliner around hazel eyes. He hugs her tightly and still feels familiar with her, rubs a hand up and down her back, doesn't realize the incredulous look Zayn's piercing him with. Harley smiles and he beams brighter and when he introduces Zayn to her the man has a tight smile, shakes her hand and nods once, keeps his stance next to Niall but doesn't pay mind to their catching up, keeps a hand on Niall's waist but doesn't intrude any further.

Niall's too happy to mind, really. He finds out Harley moved back home, lives near her mother's and has a boyfriend named Dean. She's going back to school for Radiology just for the hell of it, because she can. She's working at a bank that she doesn't like but gets out early enough not to mind. She's in good shape and happy, and she's managed to see Vicki a few times, but nothing else.

"I'm getting by," she shrugs when Niall asks if all's good. But she genuinely smiles and looks happier than Niall seen her before. That's all he ever wanted, really. "I'd ask you the same, but," she flicks her gaze to Zayn, looks back at Niall with a smirk, "I think I already know the answer."

Niall responds by hugging Zayn to him, humming pleasantly as Harley laughs at the two.

Zayn's quiet the rest of the way home, and Niall doesn't question it. Not until Zayn has him on all fours, a tan hand pulling blonde strands back to make Niall look at their reflections, mirror placed in front of them.

"You're gonna do that again?" Zayn asks innocently, pushing a bit deeper and bringing Niall back against him. Niall squeezes his eyes shut, trembles and bites off a groan when Zayn repeats the slow movement again. "Answer me."

"No, Zayn," he whimpers, name sounding high-pitched when Zayn pulls his hair roughly, rams in harder than before to get his blue eyes opened. He repeats himself, almost sobs when he finally fucks him faster.

Zayn loves this, honestly thinks he needs to practice overpowering Niall, having the blond obey with a whine. He's not sadistic, so he never mentions it. But there's nothing more beautiful than having his baby _want_ to listen to his every word, yearn for more.

Like right now, Niall's so far gone he won't recall his screams afterwards. And Zayn knows this, knows Niall's lithe pale body better than his own. He's such a babe, such a fucking babe and Zayn's never been so hard as Niall raises his ass to have Zayn aim where he needs him.

Niall's pale pale pale, the only other color is the red splotches scattered. He's red in the face, like a hand is around his throat instead of gripping his hip tighter. It's going to be one of those rare times Zayn's grip leaves marks, leaves sore spots that'll have Niall whimpering in the morning. He's red down his chest and down the middle of his back, sweat pooling there and shaking each time his ass meets Zayn's groin. And his ass, such a sweet ass that's stung red, brighter than Zayn's used to, tremors with each thrust, wants more of Zayn.

Zayn runs a thumb across the rim, feels the valley of veins on his dick each time he forces himself deeper, deep enough to feel the rim fluttering across the base. The rim's red and puckered, slick with precome and lube, and it only pools around Zayn's thumb whenever he drives forward, keeps the noises pouring out of Niall.

"Such a sweet ass," he murmurs, bringing both hands to knead the flesh, stretch it apart, causing the rim to pull taut around him. Niall hangs his head, mindlessly arches his back when he comes, and Zayn pulls out, wants to see his come drip down the red crack.

But Niall's absolute favorite new memory is when Zayn idly suggests if they should move in together again.

"Don't think I can move that far away from the guys," he pouts, sitting on the same side of the booth as Zayn. "Gonna start recording their next album in a few weeks."

Zayn smiles, laughs softly before sipping from the glass in front of him.

"No, I don't mean for you to move all the way over here, babe. Like."

"You'd move in with me?" Niall questions after Zayn pauses for too long. Zayn only shakes his head, turns to Niall with an arm behind Niall.

"Our house. I mean, like. Would you wanna go back? It's still there."

Niall stares at him, blinks once and Zayn fidgets.

"Still _our_ house, right?" Zayn asks, trying to appease the tension coursing between them.

"You'd do that?" Niall eventually asks.

"Of course, if you want."

"I want," Niall blurts, doesn't look away. "I want so much."

Zayn's mouth curves on one side, looks down to nod once and blushes.

"Then it's settled."

He looks back at Niall, and Niall's never looked so beautiful.

 

 

It takes longer than planned for Zayn to move all his belongings over. It only takes Niall about six weeks, making sure every piece is covered in thick plastic wrap, folding his clothes and returning the garments that were never originally his. Most of them are Louis' or Michael's, yet Liam is closely behind and Niall can't even begin to explain that.

He doesn't put the house for sale, wants a fallback in case something happens with Zayn again, makes them drift apart or shatters them beyond compare, until it's all FUBAR. He's not pessimistic, he's just prepared. He's an adult, now, sadly. And he knows not everything is promised, not everything can mend because two hearts are completely in it till the end. But there's a small, overwhelming speck inside him, slowly growing, that believes he won't visit this house for a really long time.

The main reason he doesn't put it on the market, the reason he doesn't say aloud, is Theo. Theo's room is still the way he left it, exactly the way he left it. The comforter is perpetually creased, at this point, the lines forming on that morning he threw the blanket near the foot of the bed. The outfit he wore the day before the accident is still crumbled in his closet floor, a habit he never got out of and hid since Denise always scolded him when he didn't put his dirty clothes in the hamper. Niall wonders if the habit would've broken by now.

There are mulitple drawings on top of his bookshelf, drawings Greg put there after Theo finished them. Maura and Bob are there, so are Denise and Greg, Niall and Zayn (how Theo imagined from when they skyped), and a lot of Theo with Katie, pictures he colored for her while she was at the hospital. Niall doesn't touch them, leaves them and leaves everything else.

There's nothing left for him there, so he doesn't leave with a heart so heavy.

 

  
When Zayn finally comes back, to stay, there are towers of cardboard boxes everywhere, and everyone knows not all of it is going to fit in the already-furnished house. It's just like Niall remembered, just like the night he slept over alone so long ago. And Zayn and Harry sweep and mop while Louis and Niall wipe counters and mirrors and shelves. Liam paints a stripe of mint green over the chocolate walls, brought the leftovers when he painted the nursery for his and Danielle's soon-to-be son.

It takes a weekend to get everything sorted, and everything feels so brand new. It's the same house, same walls and windows with the same classic roof, but Niall's thriving with a sudden brilliance he can't name, something that only heightens when he finds Zayn looking at him. There's a strong reassurance in his smile all because of Niall, like Niall's the answer to everything, and Niall's always good, always good in his own flawed, drastic way that Zayn's still not used to; still not used to the force that takes hold of him whenever Niall's in his vicinity.

 

 

 

Niall tries not to laugh, but it's kind of funny how Louis' striving to capture all of Harry's attention now that the curly-haired man isn't gracing him with all of it in showers. It's actually amusing the heights Louis goes to, actually. When they help Zayn and Niall put their house in order, he's there when Harry can't decide if he wants a banana split or a smoothie, and Louis helps him decide sticking close by. He's there when Harry slips on the running foam dripping across the bathroom floor, and Louis laughs but goes over to pick him up, looks up at Harry when they're standing to start a moment but Harry blinks and looks away, rubs the back of his head and shakingly laughs.

And it's stomach-tighteningly hilarious the number of pouts in a row Louis sends Niall when he gushes sadly about his efforts at winning Harry over again that seem to be in vain. Niall never laughs at him, he laughs with Zayn as they chuckle over the texts his best friend sends him.

"We should get them back together, you know?" Niall suggests when they're at the restaurant they had their first date in; Zayn's planned this day for months, honestly.

"And how do you plan on doing that?" Zayn encourages, setting his fork down to pay attention to Niall. They're sitting at a round table, a candlelight flickering between them as wealthy couples in extravagant outfits sit around them. Niall's just wearing a plaid shirt with tattered jeans, dark blue Nikes on his feet. Zayn's no better, with black pants and everlasting boots. But Zayn also wanted them to dress casual, dress in their own style, wanted them to be themselves.

Niall shrugs at Zayn's question, and laughs along when Zayn laughs at the gesture.

"Well that was really helpful," he chuckles, wiping his mouth with the cotton napkin next to his red wine.

"What? I'm serious," Niall smiles, nudging Zayn's foot with his own. "We can... dunno. Force them into a position where they have to reconcile or some shit. Make them discuss or summat, who fucking knows." Niall likes that Zayn doesn't mind his profanity anymore, knows the man has a sailor's mouth of his own with all the frustration the company throws at him.

"That sounds like an ace idea. Except there has to be a motive behind it all. Harry will agree, he agrees with everything. And Louis would also if he knows he's with Harry."

"Exactly!" Niall beams. Zayn smirks at him, shakes his head in awe because all of the boy across from him is his. All of Niall, from his faux blonde hair and manually straight teeth, from his blue and yellow-speckled eyes to his freckled body and frail frame, his outrageous mind and carefree personality, his good and evil ways and manners and immorals, is all his. And that's the greatest present anyone could ever give him.

Niall smiles back innocently, doesn't register the enamored look Zayn's giving him as he thinks of ideas.

"Let's get married," the blond eventually offers, and Zayn goes red and gapes and his eyes have never opened so wide. "Like," Niall tries to clairfy, laughs uncomfortably for a moment, "like, Harry's going to be your best man. Louis' mine, obviously, and," he clears his throat. "They'll walk down together, and we can witness when they reunite and shit. It's ace."

"It's ace..." Zayn trails in thought, gripping his bearings as he squints at a distance above Niall. "So, you're telling me, Louis and Harry will get back together, because they will have to attend all the marital appointments, also. And will sit together at the engagement party and, if we agree, will help pick out flowers and decorations, taste entrees and champagne, subsequently arriving to the wedding day, where they'll walk arm in arm, and soon live happily ever after?"

"Yes," Niall nods, bites his lips together. It sounds so stupid when Zayn puts it that way, but Harry's a pussy when it comes to cliches and there's no requitement more dramatic than that, and Louis loves drama more than anyone Niall knows.

Zayn shrugs in apathy, makes a nonsensical noise before laying his elbows on the clothed table, looking at his plate before eyeing Niall seriously.

"Let's do it."

"Yes!" Niall cheers quietly. "See? Not all my ideas are..." he drawls, blinking in realization as Zayn looks at him with a void expression. "Wait, are you...?

"Marry me," Zayn clarifies, and Niall stops breathing. His pale fingertips fidget on his lap, and blood's rushing to his head at an alarming speed, trying to pump as much blood through his brain to stop him from passing out. Zayn's face doesn't change, he just gazes at Niall so intently, and Niall breathes once, a few more times to form a sentence.

"Are you proposing to me?" Zayn nods, gives the tiniest smile as his eyes gleam. Niall empties his lungs, shudders and when he inhales, the oxygen gets stuck in his throat, causes him to freeze all over again. He softly laughs, gives a gentle chuckle as a hand covers his face coyly. "Why, Mr. Malik, are you asking for my hand in marriage without a ring? Didn't your mother teach you better?"

Zayn's eyes squint in amusement, and looks at the table bashfully as laughter erupts in fistfuls out of his mouth and surrounding Niall pleasantly. Niall reaches for his hand, runs his thumb pad over ring-adorned knuckles.

"I wouldn't say no," he answers, and Zayn releases a breath of relief, doesn't know Niall's aware how embarrassed he is.

"Come on," Zayn grins, standing up to stand next to Niall. "We're not done yet."

"Where are we going now?" Niall asks, and Zayn winks at him when they get inside the hotel's elevator, tan finger pressing the stop at the roof. He only winks again when Niall looks at him perplexed.

It takes longer than expected when the door slides open, revealing the night sky to them and nothing else. The hotel's the tallest building in the area, and Niall rushes to the edge, stares down at the floors below and how tiny the cars look from his view.

"Everything's so tiny," he chortles. Zayn merely stands next to him, leans on the balcony to watch Niall instead. "This is so cool," Niall mutters to himself, looking around. "Zayn! That's the school! Where we met!" he points with excitement, finding the campus to their upperleft. He also spots where he and Louis used to live, the music museum Zayn took him, too. There's the diner he used to work at, the Hispanic restaurant he and Zayn never got enough of, and the park they both walked along together, both falling into the nearby creek after wrestling over the last chip. "Zayn, it's all here," he speaks, hugs himself with glee.

"I know," Zayn says, because he does. "S'why I brought you here."

"Thank you," Niall murmurs, going over to Zayn to hug him, lean in to kiss under his jaw. There's stubble there, and he can't wait for his lips to sting from the bristles. "I love it, I love today, I love you. So, so much."

Zayn looks down at him, tenses his jaw and blinks once. Niall can feel how much he's shaking, knows it's from the scene downstairs, so he runs his hands down Zayn's arm and kisses him, lets him know everything's okay.

"I love you," Zayn eventually says, and Niall goes to say it back but he puts a hand up to stop him. "Let me finish, I know I said that so many times but I really want you to understand just how _much_ I love you, right now," he starts, eyebrows pinching in thought. "I met you ten years ago, and no one's ever made me feel the way you do, not even close. And I've met a lot of people. I traveled the world, and _you're_ still my world. Still the best thing on this whole excuse of a world we live in. I hurt you, I know. And I know there are some things I will never fix, but I will never stop trying, Niall, even if I know my efforts are in vain." Niall's eyes should dry up with the extended time they're left opened, but they're only glimmering with unshed tears. "I've seen you at your best, when no one can tell you otherwise or affect you. I've seen you at your absolute worst, so many times already that it's so unfair to you. But I still want of all of that to myself, want all of _you_ to myself. Forever, no matter how stupid that sounds, because I honestly don't think one lifetime with you is enough." He licks his lips, swallows and voices, "Niall?"

"Zayn," he utters, not even a question. He has to look _down_ now, where Zayn's on one--

"Will you marry me?" he delivers, and Niall isn't in his body.

Niall's waiting for a camera to snap, someone to come out of some corner and cause a scene. He's waiting for a group of paparazzi to barge in or a helicoptor to pass by. But something's supposed to happen, because no moment should be this perfect. _Nothing_ should exist so flawlessly and Zayn's there, on his knee with a fucking white gold ring in a black velvet box and where the _fuck_ did he get that--

"Niall?"

"Oh my God," Niall covers his mouth, can't look away if he wanted to. There's a very very very wonderful feeling inside him, and it's so grand it's taking over every command in his body. "Holy shit, you're serious, right?"

"What?" Zayn laughs incredulously, bringing his unused hand to tap the back of his palm across his forehead. "Are _you_ serious--?"

" _Yes_ ," Niall nods, looks scared in the face but he can't form a smile or glare or cry or even pout. His face is frozen. So are his feet and his hands, his hands that aren't fidgeting for once in such a situation. "Holy fuck, Zayn, _yes, yesyesyes_ , I'm gonna die. You're really not joking. You really want me--"

Zayn's kissing him, ring in one hand and the other around the back of Niall's skull, kissing him quiet until Niall's trying to jump his bones, jump on him and make him come right there.

"I'm so hard right now, I swear I'm gonna bust in my pants right here, fuck. The effect you have on me, Zayn."

"Charming," Zayn smirks, but his hazel eyes are dark, reflecting the city lights around them. The ring fits better than he thought. Niall flexes his hand, forms a fist and watches the ring shine with the light around them. The prominent vein on his left hand disappears under the band, and Zayn runs a thumb over it, stops at the loop to rub it. "I love you, he says again, looks to find Niall gazing at him.

Niall's just relieved Zayn never reminds him he cried like a baby after that.

 

  
It's a small wedding, Zayn doesn't like many people and Niall wants it to be as intimate as possible, knows for a fact he'll never get married again. Because if he and Zayn break up, he won't even muster the effort to find anyone worthy of a longterm relationship.

Everyone important is there and everything goes as planned, yet the choir arrives there a little later than scheduled. But Niall's day-- _wedding_ day isn't ruined. Even after he finds out Ethan's going to be there. (Ethan had apologized a bit after the two broke up all that time ago. And Zayn had explained that he and Ethan never discussed significant others through their emails, that it was simply--literally--a sentence of how life was before asking the recipient of theirs.) There are flowers and obnoxious art pieces everywhere that he only coos at. People dressed in the navy blue attire they asked for in the invitations and Niall's creme suit fits so much better after he gained the bit of weight Zayn forced him to. There's a reserved seat for Yaser, even Katie and Theo. And it's all just so heartbreaking, in the most beautiful way.

Zayn's the first to cry, in the middle of their own personal vows. Everyone waits for him to repeat after the officiant, and he only regards Niall. Then his eyes are filling up, and he blinks quickly, pinches the skin between his eyes as the muscles in his jaw jumps.

"Sorry, sorry," he croaks, sniffs and nods, turns to Niall again. Niall taps his chest twice, once on each breastplate, softly traces a finger down his matching blazer to tap his bellybutton, moves hand down Zayn's arm to grasp his shaking hands. Zayn never really stops tearing up, but he finishes their vows without another pause.

Niall smashes a piece of cake in Zayn's face first, smothers it all over and laughs all throughout. The guests are playfully scolding him, because they didn't even cut the enormous dessert yet, but then they're laughing also when Zayn recuperates and smacks a hearty size of it in Niall's face, making sure to rub it all in.

 _Crash Into Me_ plays on their first dance, a slow version with more piano than strings, but they hold each other as close as possible and Niall forgets halfway that they're not actually alone, when Niall bites Zayn's bottom lip filthily, whispers evident vulgar things in his ear and Zayn reminds him their mothers are there.

So is Niall's father, surprisingly; and Niall hasn't seen him since Katie's burial, hasn't spoken to him longer than that. He didn't even plan to invite him, was persuaded by Zayn. ("Trust me," Zayn had said, shaking his head when Niall went to throw away the invitation he thoughtlessly made for Bob, "You want your father in your life. Take this chance. You'll regret it if you don't.")

He's standing by the entrance, in an actual suit, tapping his foot nervously and looking away when Niall catches his eye. He doesn't venture in further than that.

"Go talk to him," Zayn suggests when they're eating at their secluded table, everyone else scattered to devour the delicacies.

"Will you come with me?" Niall pleads. Fuck all and in between, but he is not ready to face his father. And he doesn't give a damn how needy he seems, he doesn't want to do this.

"I don't think that's a great idea, but stay where I can see you. If it looks grave, or you give me a look, I'll be there."

Niall nods, puts his fork down to get up.

"Can you at least kiss your husband before he goes?" he pouts. He gets the reaction he wanted, the way Zayn looks at him earnestly, gapes before laughing adoringly, smoothing a hand over Niall's cheek to kiss him fully once, pulls back for a second, mightier and breathless. "I will never get tired of that." Zayn agrees.

Bob's outside, leaning against the brick wall, looking at his black shoes. He's missed the ceremony, arrived in the middle of the reception. Niall doesn't know how to start this.

"You can come inside," he eventually settles on, keeps his hands in his pockets. "If. If, you're hungry, or something."

"No," Bob quickly shakes his head. "Thank you, but that's not. Um. I appreciate it, I'm okay, thanks."

Niall would stand next to him, lean against the wall too and look ahead, but his suit is light and he's not dirtying it for anyone. Might not even let Zayn take it off of him later on because he knows the man's going to rip if off. (They've stuck to abstinence for the last month for this day.)

"Congratulations, by the way. You're," he coughs, scratches his head. "You're a married.... man."

"Thank you," Niall replies. Bob sounds genuine and sincere, so Niall doesn't know what to say after that.

"Niall, look."

"Bob, I'm happy," he interrupts, doesn't continue until his father's looking up at him. "I'm _happy_. This is my wedding day and I have a husband waiting in there for me, right now. Probably wondering what the fuck's going on 'cause he told me to stay where he can see me." He pauses, inhales a lungful. "He loves me, more than anything. And I feel the same for him. We're happy, today is our day and please don't ruin that for--"

"No, no, that's not," he starts, sighs angrily and stands up taller. "That's not why I'm here. I don't want to ruin _anything_ , Niall. I'm not here for that."

"So what are you here for?"

Bob doesn't know how to answer. Niall has the courtesy to wait patiently.

"You gotta understand," he begins, pauses for far too long. "Please understand, Niall. I don't want to be this way for the hell of it. I don't want to make this harder on you or myself. I don't want-- I just need you to-- Fuck, this is harder than I thought," he stammers, rubbing his forehead. It's quiet for too long, and Niall's sure Bob's done, isn't going to say anything, so he takes a step to turn around but-- "I've practically lost two of my kids. I don't want to lose the only one I've got left." He's crying. Niall only stands shocked because he's never seen his father this way. Bob only continues talking, wiping his face harshly.

"You've gone and. Married a _man_ , and. God, I'm not okay with that, I'm not. I can't act like that's okay when that itches my bones, but." He raises a hand defeatedly, drops it by his side. "You're happy, Niall. I'm your father and that's all I've ever wanted for you. You're happy, he makes you happy and," he shrugs, wipes his cheek again. "You're happy, I'll try to only focus on that."

"Is everything okay out here?" It's Zayn, leaning on the wooden door behind them. Niall turns, sees Zayn walk over to him when the man registers his wet face. "You good?" he urgently questions, stares between Niall and his father.

"Yeah, uh," Niall turns to Bob, finds him looking in between them, fixing on the floor next before looking away. He doesn't look angry, doesn't look like he's ready to scream and curse Zayn or him out. "Yeah, I'm. Good, I'm good."

 

  
The beginning of their honeymoon is a cruise that takes them around the Caribbean islands, stops at the islands for tourists to roam before taking them to their next stop. Zayn and Niall sunburn quickly and abudantly, but Zayn looks good. Niall just feels like a tomato. ("Should I ask how you know how an inanimate object feels?" Zayn asks with concern. Niall just shrugs before pulling him towards the deep end of the cruise's swimming pool.)

They drink the best colada they've ever came across and buy the weirdest knick knacks they can find for Harry. They find a onesie that has a muscled-male physique that they buy for Liam's son. ("Liam Bruce. Really?" Niall had deadpanned. "What?" Liam had asked innocently, "Liam Bruce _Payne_ , get it? Get it?") They find a pair of coconut shells for Louis to wear as a bra, he'll have a kick out of that though will deny it till the very end.

(They're at the shore, a lovely, uncrowded beach with white sand and aqua water. Liam texts Niall, didn't get a reply from Zayn. "So supposedly, Harry and Louis disappeared together after the reception. And they're going around the truth about it when asked, not really denying it. It _did_ work!"

"You're still on that?" Zayn replies, dosing off across the beach towel, but the corner of his mouth quirks and he squeezes Niall's knee in silent triumph.)

Niall thinks they're going back home on the last day of the tour, but Zayn steers him towards the waiting area when they get to the airport.

"Aren't we going home?"

Zayn shakes his head, smirks and pulls out their tickets that'll take them to America.

"We're going on a roadtrip," he answers. Niall tries to smile, tries to think of honest words, but Zayn says, "All over America." And Niall can't even think of a word to describe how he feels.

"You mean...?

"Of course." That was one of the first things Niall's confessed to him, to him and Lou and Haz as they huddled in Harry's living room, remnants of takeout around them. ("I'd kill to go to the states," Niall had idly said after Louis had wished to meet Obama. "Dunno, would just love to travel all through it, you know? Get in a car and drive, no destination in mind, just enjoy wherever I go." "Roadtrip?" Harry had asked, slurping the last of his lo mein. "Yeh, exactly. Roadtrip." Zayn hadn't known he was subconsciously storing this for later.)

Niall just ogles ahead, realizes Zayn's put the tickets in his hand. They're set to land in Virginia. And that's all Zayn has in mind so far. He doesn't have to go back to the business for a while, a really long time, if his partner was accurate.

"Thank you," Niall whispers, looks to him. There are tears at the corners of his eyes, and he brushes them before they spill.

"Babe, you okay?"

"Fuck, Zayn. I'm so in love with you it hurts," he laughs. "Like, my chest feels like it's about to burst, literally and that's scaring me. Yet I don't care at the same time 'cause of you, and. _You_ , you're amazing. You're perfect and way more than I deserve--"

"Hey," Zayn warns.

"Shut up, let me talk." He scoots closer, holds one side of Zayn's face to gaze at him deeply, lets his filter drop. "You're my husband now. Right now we're married and that's a _lot_ to take in. Almost two years ago I thought I lost you forever, Zayn. I was _sure_ I lost you forever, and it was all my fault. I can't explain how much that destroyed me, and hopefully I never have to. I don't want to revisit that part of my life." His thumb catches Zayn's bottom lip, he leaves it there. "I know marriage doesn't assure stability, that it doesn't mean everything's going to be easy from now and on. It requires _us_ , me and you, every single day for the rest of our lives. It's _work_ , something you have to put effort in and I never looked forward to the future as much as I do now." Zayn's barren, can only stare between Niall's blue eyes. "I honestly wouldn't want to go through this with anyone else, because no one else knows what we went through, what we had to suffer. Only _you_." He kisses Zayn, kisses his mouth, chin and nose, kisses his eyelids and feels the brush of eyelashes under his mouth. "As long as you're in this with me, I promise that you'll never go through that again. I love you more than even _you_ can put in words."

Zayn closes his eyes. He hangs his head, and Niall hugs him, kisses his tan temple when Zayn shudders through it all. If Niall has to go through all of that, has to endure another four years for the man in front of him to be his again, he'll do it. With a reluctance but strong determination, he'll do it all.

"I don't think you've realized how much those words affected me. I think that's all I've ever wanted to hear, honestly. I can't explain how relieved I feel. I mean, I knew you were honest with me all throughout this time, but." He shakes his head, scratches the nape of Niall's neck. "Those words just really hit home." Niall looks at him and

And

And Zayn's never looked so open, so fucking _vulnerable_ and _bare_. It's _startling_ , makes Niall choke on thin air and blanches drastically, the way Zayn's staring at him, like Niall's gifted him the purpose for mankind, the reason behind sickness and the cure to world famine. He's looking at Niall like Niall is a new star, a new uncharted star and Zayn's the founder of such unnatural brilliance. Zayn's looking at Niall in a way Niall's only recognized four times before. And this is only the fifth time, in _all_ the moments they've spent together. It's so much and not enough and Niall doesn't know the color of his skin, can't pronounce a sound and is unable to hear past the shrill in his ears because of _Zayn_. Everything morphs into blandness except the man in front of him and Niall isn't used to this newfound drumming all over his body and surroundings.

Niall smiles gently, shrugs politely and covers Zayn's hand on his thigh with his own.

"Thank you."

"Was only the truth, babe."

"No," Zayn chuckles once, blinks to clear his head and look at Niall.

"Thank _you_ , for all of this. For everything else."


End file.
